The Quiet Morning of August 3rd, 2025

The morning began in a quiet stillness. Lola breathed in her satisfied sleep, a deep peace after our shared outing, the first of its kind since her operation in February. The rain came, a gentle rain that mirrored the restlessness of my own mind, my ego stirring with thoughts of breakfast and the day's plans. But by letting go and accepting the moment for what it was, the rain subsided to a gentle sigh, and the quiet returned.

I saw the past clearly, a period of "blindness" that I am now leaving behind. It was a relief to know that I have stopped drinking my life away. This newfound clarity led me to reflect on my journey and the journeys of others. I saw in Gollum's desperate love for his "precious" an allegory for those who are lost to their own attachments—to Possessions, to Identity, to Ego.

But I am no longer lost. I have found my path.

I know now that my steps are going the correct way. The future is no longer a distant thought, but something instantly closer, made real by a simple act: the writing of an email to the friends of the path, the Amis Saint Jacques.

The path I will take is the one I have not yet walked, south from Perpignan to Montserrat. It is my way.

I am already on pilgrimage. My mind has reorganized itself around this knowledge, and with the rain now passed on, I rest in God, a state of peace that is a perfect reflection of Lola's own restfulness. I am not lost. I am home.