The Next Step

It’s a new day, and I’m curious to see what it will reveal. Slowly, I’ll take the small steps, finding something to enjoy along the way. The rain is back, but it’s hard to say whether it’s a return or just another part of the rhythm right now. Either way, it’s here again.

“Soon my free fingers will fumble, and in them will lie my life”.

I heard this quote while watching an old man craft handmade cameras with careful, steady hands. As he worked, I realised: life is passing through our hands, moment by moment. Not in sorrow or regret, but in the quiet truth of its flow. We create, we hold, we let go, all in the span of a fleeting breath. It’s not something to mourn, but something to acknowledge — the reality that each moment, as it slips through, is a part of what makes us who we are. Life doesn't ask for perfection, just for presence, and the ability to hold it as it is.

New faces have a way of making the familiar feel fresh, the ordinary a bit exciting. The shift happens almost without effort, as the brain resets, slipping back into what might have been or what could be. It’s like a gentle distraction from the reality of what’s happening now.

There’s nothing wrong with this. It’s just the way the mind moves, creating stories for the heart to follow. So long as I know what’s happening — and why — it’s all part of the ride.

Today, distraction feels welcome. Needed, even. A break from the usual patterns. Tomorrow, who knows? Maybe the body will want something different, or maybe it will keep moving through what’s in front of it.

For now, I’ll let the moments pass as they will, and turn my attention to the next two hours of practice. The simplicity of kicking drills always feels grounding. There’s something reassuring about the basics — the steady work paying off, form by form. Little by little, the repetitions make every new movement feel like part of a bigger whole.