Walk your path

It’s not yet 8 a.m. and we’re back from a lovely long ramble through the neighborhood, after rising at 4:30 (!#@!) to share Older Daughter’s ride to work and retain the car for Younger Daughter’s trip to school for a Biology final.

The clouds were beautifully suggestive this a.m. I may finally have to join the Cloud Appreciators, after lurking so long in their twitter stream. Kevin Kelly says data not shared is practically non-existent, these days. “A naked bit is worth less and less.” I’m not so sure about that. The most important information stream is still the direct mainline from the world into one’s own sensorium.

Aside from clouds, what did I think about this morning?

Prompted by Tom Butler-Bowdon‘s “literature of possibility,” I helped myself to a round of randomish thoughts about the therapeutics of “flow” and the search for meaning, about the Dalai Lama’s “art of happiness,” about Emerson’s “self-reliance, even a bit about Wayne Dyer and women who run with wolves.

I also thought (but mostly didn’t) about just moving on down the road.

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