- [x] Set timer for 20 minutes - [x] Start writing By scooting my toes, a centimeter at a time, under the soft back of my dog, I warm myself inside and out. I’m lost. I’m looking out the front of the tarp tent at green leaves. All I see in every direction is green. The green varies slightly, like the leaves themselves with areas of more or less green. Cold is how I feel. Is the shivering nerves or starvation showing its appetite through my inability to get warm. But my dog, she is warm, she is support, she is strength, she is having a frigging great time! If the trip never ended, and every day were spent searching for my trail, she would be just as happy. Why doesn’t she live with the anxiety of the future? How is every moment the best moment that the continuum contains? How is she not pulled with desire for a different moment? How can I live without that anxiety, without that angst? She drinks when she can, she eats what she can, she bounces with glee each time the door to the tent is opened! Ahh, to have the blissful unawareness of babies and dogs, blind to the bigger picture, or seeing it and not caring.