Evidence of Effort

Another tough one. Notched into the soul like evidence of effort, which I suppose is what it is.

There was fun in it somewhere — there usually is, even in the harder days, if you look. The complex physical puzzles of working through a form that hasn't settled yet, the body working hard at things that don't quite cooperate, the strange satisfaction of reaching toward something that stays just slightly beyond today's grasp. That's not nothing, even when the tiredness makes it feel like nothing.

There's a particular comfort I've come to rely on — the moment the head hits the pillow with nothing left to give. Not depletion exactly, or not only that. More like a completion. A well you descend into slowly, and you know as you're descending that you'll rise again, and that knowing makes the depth of it something other than frightening. There's a safety in that abyss when you understand what it is.

The body is tired in the way it gets tired at this point in a learning week. That's not new. That's essentially a Tuesday.

What matters tonight is simple enough. Put the head down. Meet whatever today is still asking for with something approaching grace. And remember — which I do need to actually remind myself, it doesn't come automatically — that every step in this is a lesson in a journey that doesn't end. Without end. That's the entire thing. It's not a problem to be solved. It's a path to be walked.