Begin where night left us

~ not lonely, just alone, and ready

Writing to everyone by writing to only one …

Asked about Musings at David and #3’s place. A small dinner party, it was aprez-meal, David asked what happens when I get feedback from someone I was writing about - positive or negative - whether I heard from them? “Yes, very directly in fact.” I explained that sometimes I hear from someone thinking I was writing about them when I was actually writing about someone else entirely. He asked, “What do you tell them?” I answered, “I tell them, it ain’t about you sweetheart.” … and laughter filled the room. What began as innocent bit of banter devolved into a long conversation and his suggestion that if I put Musings into book form (a serious notion back then, and it lingers) once I had written these columns for a year (with no expectation then of these more than 22 years), he said, there’s your working title: “It ain’t about you sweetheart.” With memories of that evening and thinking about David this morning, ‘this ain’t about you David, but I’m feeling about you and the magic we find in life when we least expect to find it.’

Slept long. Up late. No guilt.

Sleep, a good one, is under-celebrated, too often a luxury, too seldom the norm - a gift. Not from the sandman, but from some deeper part of me whispering: Mark, you’re going to need your strength.

Today’s list is long. The work won’t wait. The clock won’t pause. There’s a kind of power in waking alone beyond dreaming of being not alone. Not lonely, just alone. No distractions. No explanations. Just clarity. Not always fun, but real. Solid. A reset.