Walking stirs up my brain like waves reshaping the sands in the sea. I can almost feel the synapses firing. Like a flash, a thought or idea comes into my head while I’m walking, as if it were carried in by the wind. I don’t own it. If it were truly mine I would know where it came from and it would remain with me.
Such a simple thought, but the words come together in perfect order. And then they are gone without a trace. If I had a pen and pad around my neck, I might capture the precious words. The devices so convenient are not at hand when they are needed.
I’ll wait for the breeze to carry it back in a new shape, form, or insight. Maybe tomorrow.
30 minutes walking