I went for a run yesterday after a really long stretch of inactivity.
It’s good for clearing my head because the whole time I’m out, the only thought that occupies my mind is, “I HATE running.”
After the run, I continued with the additional meditative activity of hitting a tennis ball against a wall at a nearby school. Bounce, bounce, bounce, bounce, serve, repeat.
When I got home, I sat in the backyard and watched Milo for a few minutes. Milo is a robin that hangs out pretty regularly in our yard. I decided to name him a few days ago and sort of instantly regretted it, because my emotional investment in him has increased exponentially. Now, if he doesn’t show up for a few days, I’m going to worry. I’ll think about him all winter. And what if he goes and lives in another yard next spring? I don’t think this kind of relationship is going to be good for me. From now on I’m only naming rocks and plants.