I feel I’ve let my writing slide recently. A chapter of my life is coming to an end and I haven’t exactly been preoccupied, but I have I suppose been a little restless, and maybe a little nostalgic recently. I thought recently on what it is to reach a new decade as one grows old – whether it be 30, 40, 50, or 60. It seemed at least in the moment that it would be natural to turn to the past and the future, survey the horizon, and turn to questions of meaning, purpose, or even deliverance.
Sometimes I seem to wake up as if in a fog, and then midway throughout the day, think to myself that “this will be a lost day”. I can’t say that that’s what I feel today. I have been shifting my weight, turning to different pursuits – I suppose in somewhat of a haphazard way.