- [x] Set timer for 20 minutes - [x] Start writing I perch at the end of the driveway. I pause the choice while looking left and right. Am i held by safety, or uncertainty? Do I go to work today, or do I drive away? The sun burns bright to the right, making it nearly impossible to make out anything but the road flowing through the trees. A mist is subliming from the overnight rain, fogging the discrimination of shapes. The left is gray, overcast, and somehow clear. How is it that my choice is so metaphorical so early in the morning? Drive left to work? The known, the certain, the clear, the colorless. Drive to something else? The unknown of low fog, high sun, an uncertain and bright path. Follow your heart is good guidance when it's just you; when what you've created with the sweat of love is both your responsibility and your privilege, running to the unknown can be a different kind of trap. The car swings left and bumps the familiar exit onto the road, and moves slowly at first, then gaining momentum and energy towards work. The car urges towards the highest expression of my professional existence, towards helping those I love and those I don't know and for whom I am responsible. I help them move towards their bright sun. I held my choice, I hold my choice, I choose. Tomorrow, it might be the right turn that is gray, the sun may be in my eyes looking left. When is the shift? Day and night and evening and season changes where the sun is when I make the turn. Sometimes the view lines are all sunny, all foggy, all snowing and obscured. The metaphor changes with the frequency of my moods. The secret is always believing that choice exists. My body drives without my mind, my body knows the default, the path is worn by the repeated actions. My body craves the certainty and safety of the known, my body craves the uncertainty of the unknown. My body believes it can tell the difference. Is the past known at all? Is it a memory of a mirage? Looking left into the sun, I perceive through a choice of sunglasses, can I use lenses to re-color the world that existed? Someday, I'll turn right, but not yet. Morning pages, day 1