Where did all this crap come from anyway? How did we adorn ourselves with Mardi-Gras fashions and functionless accouterments?
I've stripped away a lot of stuff recently. I stepped back a little from the Boy Scouts. I stepped back a lot actually.
I've started writing again. When I was young I could crank out a page a night. Now? I'm lucky if it's a page a month. Twelve pages a year? Really? Granted, those pages are incredible, amazing stuff, but still, twelve pages?
Back to pell work. Mudthaw was more than just rust. I was all over the place. Back on the pell, I see that everything is way off. Breathing, foot work, precision.
It's all falling back into place. I hope that May 10 I won't look like such a noob.
Exercise. On the walking track again. A little sweat, a little heat. It's a start. It's moving.
I'm coming back to the basics and I wonder why I left them in the first place.
I guess if you never climb that hill you'll never know what's on the other side. We have to leave the basics eventually, other wise that is all we will ever have, the boring, dreary basics.
That's the thing about venturing out, you can always come home again.
You can always come back to basics.
And venture out again.