Waking up tired has become part of the rhythm here. I’d like to say I’m used to it, but the truth is you never really are. It’s an uncomfortable state — one that only eases once the body starts moving again.

Yesterday was a good day overall, though I’m still wrestling with the opening movements of the Horse Whip form. It’s enjoyable, but like all forms, it has a way of exposing weakness long before it offers anything back.

Today is just today.

I woke up feeling like an engine that’s running, but not quite at speed. Moving, yet sluggish. It’s a strange sensation — persistent enough to notice, but hard to pin down.

Am I moving forward? Yes.
Am I moving at the pace I want? No.

And yet, when I look at it honestly, that no doesn’t really change anything. Still, the feeling lingers. Uninvited.

Today arrived cold, wet, and soaked through with rain. And strangely, I felt excited. Time to train. Time to learn. Time to smile and find some enjoyment in it.

Is everything perfect?
Hardly.
That answer never really changes.

Still, I’m here. And I’m not unhappy.

Home is not the answer.

The strange thing is, I don’t really have a home — at least not in the way most people would define it. And yet, the old phrase home is where the heart is feels unexpectedly accurate from where I’m standing.

Right now, the Wudang Mountains feel closer to home than anywhere else. That feeling was reinforced after sitting down with a friend who has just returned from Italy. He seems genuinely happy to be back here. His description of returning to Europe, though, sounded exhausting. Disorienting. Nothing like a return at all.

I need a boat. The rain is coming down so hard that training will be uncomfortable at best. After six weeks of this, it’s no longer novelty — just weather asserting itself, again.

Still, I woke up today with something resembling a clear path. Not a solution, but a direction. I started sketching out a course — something that could realistically support the future I want to build.

From the outset, it looks like a lot of work. More than a lot, actually. But that doesn’t surprise me. Anything that’s ever mattered has asked for that much.

Sleep has been difficult lately. Too many thoughts moving at once. Most of them circling a future I didn’t choose, but now have to live inside.

When I look back at what happened with Stephanie, it feels less like a single event and more like a quiet collapse. Decisions made without me that reshaped everything I thought was stable. That sense of security slipping away is still there, lingering. And I think that’s where the anxiety has been coming from.

It’s not just fear of what’s ahead — it’s the feeling of having no clear choices at all. The future feels thin. Even the past sometimes feels unreal, as if I misread it while I was living it.

I should have known that standing in the rain all weekend, chasing photographs, would come at a cost. This morning I woke with the beginnings of a cold.

Nothing dramatic. Just enough to remind me that the body keeps its own ledger.

Today will need to be quieter. Letting the body do what it does without interference. No pushing. No negotiating. Just allowing recovery to take its course.

It’s been a few days of silence. I guess I haven’t had much to say lately. The past few days have been a bit up and down, to be honest.

The time in the mountains was enjoyable, but it left me feeling worn. I haven’t felt like I’m making the kind of forward progress I want in my training. The truth is, I think I need to start setting some goals for the rest of the year — something to measure the steps I’m taking.

I’m always improving, but when things start tightening up, it doesn’t always feel that way.

Saturday. I woke early, drawn by the promise of something new this weekend.

For the past week, I had watched the mist, low cloud, and rain move slowly through the mountains that cradle the school. Today felt like the right time to finally explore the valleys and ridges that had been calling to me.

A cab ride, a bus, a cheap hotel — and then a day spent walking through a mountain atmosphere that felt otherworldly.

Friday. The last two training sessions of the week. The funny thing is, I feel better today than I did yesterday.

If training is really a roller coaster, then today feels like a smoother ride. The waves of good and bad, the cycle of progress and pain — it’s all here. And then there’s the list of never-ending injuries, which never quite seems to get shorter.

I know what I signed up for. At this point, it’s just time to get on with it.

I woke up with a very sore leg. No surprise — something’s sore every day. It’s part of the job. I had a coffee and massaged it for a heartbeat, but that was about it.

While doing that, I watched a YouTube video about how people are using ChatGPT for almost every aspect of their lives. The results were clear.

Using AI instead of your own brain leads you to become... brain-dead. You lose the ability to think critically. It’s as if you convince yourself you’re becoming smarter, while in reality, you’re just becoming more inept.

Are we living in a growingly detached world? A world where the only thing that seems to matter is money and significance? I don’t want to believe that, but from where I’m standing, it certainly looks that way.

Are we foolish, self-centered, or just deluded? I’m starting to think we’re all of those things, wrapped up in a little meat puppet, running tirelessly on a hamster wheel.
Talking about change while staying firmly planted exactly where we feel most popular.
Sad, but true.

When the week starts on a Tuesday, I have to admit it feels almost like cheating. A little extra room before the rhythm takes hold. A long way to go, but this week, I hope to take real steps in my new form. It’s time to keep learning and moving forward.

The rain has been relentless this past month, and while today is still cloudy, at least it’s not raining. It’s a welcome change, even if it’s small.

Time to train. Time to move forward. Time to appreciate whatever moments this journey has to offer.

Monday morning arrived with a shift. Today is a day off — the Mid-Autumn Festival, and the school is hosting a big dinner. The funny thing is, I have no plans to attend.

I’m not sure why. Maybe it’s the weather. Maybe it’s just my mood. But today, I feel like being alone. Just me and my thoughts, no plans, no expectations. A simple day where nothing in particular has happened or will happen.

Instead of the grand lunch, I’ll settle for a simple sandwich and then head home to watch a film. Maybe a nap after.

Lazy days — they feel like Sundays, even when they aren’t.Monday morning arrived with a shift. Today is a day off — the Mid-Autumn Festival, and the school is hosting a big dinner. The funny thing is, I have no plans to attend.

No writing yesterday. Felt a little tired, uninspired. Those days often come at the end of the week. It’s nothing new.

This morning, I woke with a thought: Right now, this is my job. Not a holiday. Not an escape. An investment in the future. The question that came up was simple but sharp — Am I doing enough? Am I working hard enough?

Yes, I’m doing what’s asked of me. But is that truly enough? Deep down, I know I could push more. Work harder. Bring more intensity to what I do. The results would come, and so would the reward.

Time seems to be passing quickly at the moment. I’m training hard and seeing improvement, but there’s always that underlying feeling of a ticking clock, moving just ahead of me.

An invisible gate sits deep in the shadowy corners of my mind, questioning progress, commitment, everything. I want to move faster, to learn more. But I also know that slow movement is necessary as I navigate the twists and turns of this journey.

Maybe it’s because I’ve had a few days off. Or maybe I’m just looking for something new to lift my spirits. What I know for sure is that I want to know these forms intimately — to feel them woven into my being. And the only way to get there is by taking the time to learn, to practice, and to stay patient with the process.

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.

That brings a long, gentle weekend with RiRi to a close. We didn’t do much, but we did enough. Resting together felt natural, unforced. The highlight was a few quiet hours wandering through a bamboo park, letting the world slow itself down around us.

Life with RiRi feels simple. And yet, this time I noticed something new. A sense of speed. As if she’s spinning just a little faster than before. Or perhaps we both are. An unspoken imbalance created not by friction, but by momentum.

Now it’s time to return to school. I’m heading back carrying a sore shoulder and elbow — nothing dramatic, just the dull reminders of imperfect technique. I’m taking it as information rather than failure. Something to work with.

The day began lazily, even though it started at five. A gentle training session at dawn, unhurried and quiet. The silence at that hour has a way of rinsing the mind, making space for the day to arrive without resistance.

The morning passed on the couch, working through some photographs. Nothing urgent. Nothing heavy. Just enough engagement to feel present without being pulled into effort.

I know I’ll need to take photography more seriously again soon. Commit to it properly. But today didn’t ask for that. Today felt like it wanted very little.

After a long walk last night, I slept better than I have in months. Deep, uninterrupted sleep. I hadn’t realised quite how tired I was until my body finally stopped arguing. The reason hardly matters. The rest was exactly what was needed.

Sunday unfolded gently. A sleep-in, an easy breakfast, then a short hour of practice. I didn’t feel drawn to Tai Chi today — my arm and hand are still sore, and it feels wiser to let them recover. I seem to have created something that will resolve itself with patience and a few small adjustments.

There are no real plans for the day. Maybe a walk by the river later, once the sun softens. A quiet Sunday, unambitious and restorative. Exactly right.