A rebel without a clue.

Yesterday I walked up to Meanwood Medical Centre for the appointment at 8am with the hearing specialist: now I have to return in 4 weeks to get a hearing aid fitted ... After the appointment I decided, rather than spend time and money, traveling back into Leeds to come out again, that I'd walk to Oakwood from the centre along Potternewton Lane to Scott Hall Road, via Floral Avenue to Chapel Allerton, down to Gledhow Valley Wood and up to Oakwood along Fitzroy Drive to catch the X98. Rather than the £6, it would cost to get the three buses, I just spent £2. Getting off the X98 I saw mother and Lola going up York Road so I got a healthy welcome and her usual grin - from Lola that is! After lunch I did my usual meditation, but was unsuccessful as my mind was elsewhere, even though I had been on the go since 5, and walked 8 miles prior to 10am, something prevents me from the bliss I achieve. It's usually very easy on 42 Braine Road because it's so silent, but something was keep...

After the shallowness of the dawn the depths of the workday begins. Outside in the breeze: chilling, and in the full sun: warming, I am betwixt man and nature. Better in nature, but never entirely of it. Worse in humanity, yet never completely of it. Coffee and a chapter in the market place. I straddle two realms—concrete and chlorophyll—never fully claimed by either. The market place's coffee steam mingles with the breeze; me transient in both spaces. Workday depths pull, but sunlight offers reprieve. This tension’s a habitat. Not pure nature, not pure human chaos. Just me, sipping, reading, existing in the overlap. That’s enough? Enough isn’t resignation—it’s recognition. I am neither fully wild nor fully tame - is this my strength? The Market Place buzzes, the sun warms, the coffee steams. Here I am, threading through it all without belonging entirely. Is this sovereignty? Or a grand claim? Or the quiet truth of presence...