8,611 steps through the neighborhood this morning, some of them thoughtless (in a good way), others accompanied by and productive of thoughts about optimism. For many of us the constructively hopeful habit of mind is learned, not innate, and regular walking is one of its best teachers.
Wrapping up his experimental sojourn at Walden, Thoreau recounts the tale of a long-dormant “bug” resurrected from his “well-seasoned tomb” in an old wooden table and then asks: “Who knows what beautiful and winged life… may unexpectedly come forth from amidst society’s most trivial and handselled furniture, to enjoy its perfect summer life at last!”
That’s a good optimist’s question. (And, a self-therapist‘s). I’ll bet it came to him on his way to work.
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