A pre-emptive gratitude journal written in no chronological order for each day of February, just to help me get through this month when the daily grind starts to encroach in on my spirit.
We can choose to meet death like a great opponent about to begin an epic sword fight. We grow in size by our ability to live life in its absolute fullness. We let no moment of beauty pass under our nose without sniffing it and hugging it and holding it close.
My metaphorical blisters have healed and I can run my fingers along my calloused feet. I have a perfect aerial view of the route I took two years ago; from up here, I can pinpoint the exact moments where I wanted to give up.
It was one of those surreal moments when you realize you are in a cave, high on hash, smoking with Babas, somewhere in North India.
It’s winter in Beijing and I’m at a crowded bar with loud music. As I take my jacket off, I ask my friends if they want a drink. They nod. I push my way to the front of the bar, squeezing through the crowd and lean my elbows on the counter.