Warm Ground

Thursday morning arrived with sore legs, a tingling hand, and bright sunshine. A good combination, all things considered. It felt like the kind of day that invites practice rather than demands it.

My hopes were simple. Stretch with ease. Train with a smile. Take small steps forward. Nothing ambitious. Just enough to feel that the day had been lived on my own terms, moving quietly toward whatever comes next.

I know there will soon be a need to look ahead more deliberately. To consider what follows this chapter. But I want to find a way to do that lightly — without forcing direction or turning the future into something heavy. There’s no value in climbing a mountain if the view doesn’t interest you.

It’s never the challenge itself that stays with you. It’s the moment you realise you’ve reached what you once aimed for, only to notice your attention already drifting toward something new. Something you hadn’t even allowed yourself to imagine before.

Today felt like that kind of day.

Perfect days may not exist, but calm ones do. Peaceful ones. Days that don’t ask for improvement or explanation. Today was simple, and that simplicity felt generous.

Training on a small patch of ground, the sun warm against my back, I let the session unfold without resistance. Movements flowed. Time softened.

The forms weren’t clean. Mistakes were there, as always. But none of that seemed important today. I was present enough to enjoy the moments as they passed, without needing to correct them.

Life can be this simple sometimes — just a series of moments experienced slowly enough to feel their shape. Like a warm embrace. Free to loosen when it’s time. Free to linger a little longer if needed.

At one point, I realised I hadn’t tried to fix anything for a while.

The sun was warm on my back.

That’s all I remember clearly.