New Life. Same Pressure?
3-minute read
On my walk by the river this morning, Mirò found a stick of such enormous importance that it required immediate strategic oversight.
He stood over it, chest out, eyes scanning.
A spaniel nearby was deeply absorbed in the muddy riverside, entirely uninterested in global stick politics.
Mirò remained vigilant.
His whole body had decided this was serious.
I recognised the posture.
The stick-contender did not arrive.
A little further along the path I bumped into someone I hadn’t seen for a while.
After the usual catching up, she told me she had retired.
I asked her how it was going.
“It feels strange,” she said. “I can’t seem to settle.”
After a moment, she added,
“I think I miss the buzz. It made me feel purposeful.”
We stood watching the dogs.
Mirò holds the stick, wary now.
The spaniel continued digging, oblivious.
It struck me how often that familiar buzz isn’t coming from what’s happening in front of us at all. It comes from what the mind starts running.
What if I’m behind?
What if I’ve missed something important?
What if someone takes my stick?
A single thought, and the body responds.
Mirò guards.
The spaniel digs.
We talked a little longer.
Nothing in front of us changed.
The river kept moving.
Mirò eventually dropped the stick and wandered off.
Earlier, though, that readiness had been real.
Sometimes I notice that same charge in myself.
A future imagined.
The body prepares.
The path is still quiet.
The river keeps moving.
And I find myself wondering.
When does anything actually change?
If this resonated, feel free to share it with someone stepping into something new.
Loved it.