Restless

Today was dull. Not in a dramatic way — just flat. A day off, but without a small project to anchor it. No writing, no photos, no video to occupy the edges of the mind. When that happens, my thoughts tend to drift, and restlessness quietly takes their place.

I suspect this isn’t new. It feels more like something I’ve carried for a long time, something I’ve noticed before but never quite named — not out loud, and not fully to myself.

Looking back over today, the pattern is clear enough. Some things in my life have changed profoundly. Others haven’t moved at all.

The past few days I’ve felt ungrounded. Slightly adrift. Present, but not settled into the moment I’m actually living. I don’t like that feeling. Ignoring it won’t help, so it needs to be met — gently, but deliberately.

Alongside adjusting my training next week, I want to pay closer attention to how I think, how I react, how quickly I feel the urge to speak. I’m drawn to the idea of saying less. Of living a little deeper inside myself. Not out of withdrawal, but out of care.

When I feel the impulse to comment, to explain, to weigh in — I want to pause. Not because my thoughts are wrong, but because they don’t always need to exist outside of me. Silence, in that sense, feels like a form of discipline.

It keeps me out of conversations I don’t value. It protects the energy I do have. It leaves more room for training, for change, for whatever this process is slowly shaping.

Stillness doesn’t mean disengagement. It just means letting things pass through without grabbing hold. Watching thoughts arise without believing they need action. Understanding that attention is a resource — and once given away, it doesn’t return easily.

That feels like something worth practicing.