Things aren't right. You're stuck. Inert. Your life is draining away. You lack thrust. There's a disconnect somewhere between you and your source of propulsion which, if pressed, you'd likely be unable to identify.
After a pot of coffee, a heaping helping of self-loathing, and a few strong hits of anxiety; you make it out the door.
On the trail, before 30 minutes have passed, you're a different person. Grounded, focused, cheerful. All the life around you is coming into bloom. How do you manage to forget so quickly that this is all it takes?
The swamps are greening with grass and the skunk cabbage which had only sprouted the last time I was out here has grown hearty. Flying insects, tiny spiders, a swimming beaver, mating crows, the first elegantly curled fiddle heads. I sat at the base of a huge pine tree at a bend in the high river and listened as I watched the eddies whirl.
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