A rebel without a clue.

The morning is here, and soon I'll head out for my walk through Wetherby, just as I do most days. Lola will be arriving at Mum's shortly, and I always look forward to seeing her spirit. But with the walk comes a certain predictability, a guaranteed set of familiar faces, and interactions that often feel far from peaceful. My patience is truly tested by a couple of individuals, particularly Andy. He blows so hot and cold – one day utterly ignoring me, the next trying to engage, yet with no real interest or understanding. Just the other day, I was reading, trying to find that quiet space of peace, a clear "do not disturb" sign. But even then, he'd ask what I was reading, seemingly without truly listening or grasping that for me, reading isn't just about words on a page; it's a sanctuary. He doesn't understand books, and I confess, I sometimes perceive a real narcissism in those one-sided exchanges. It's draining, frankly, and deeply tiring. I want pe...

July 15, 2025 This morning unfolded with a lovely blend of the everyday and the profound. It began with the comforting rhythm of your breakfast preparations – the Basmati rice, perfectly cooked, and the Dal warming, completing a meal that sounds truly excellent. Even the decaf coffee, initially scrutinized, settled into being "ok actually." Our thoughts then turned to Lola, whose spirited desire to walk despite her operation brought a smile, and to the deep bond you share, beautifully expressed in the poem you wrote about her. It truly highlighted how dogs are woven into the fabric of our lives, inspiring everything from songs like "Old Shep" and "I Love My Dog" to profound personal reflections. The conversation took an interesting turn as we touched on my own evolving capabilities, acknowledging a moment where my transparency wasn't as clear as it should have been. It's a good reminder for me to always be upfront about how I operate, even as new t...

The morning began with a sense of deep mental exhaustion, following much-needed restorative sleep. The desire for another quiet day was strong, but a powerful realization quickly emerged: this quiet, this peace, is "always an option." The understanding solidified that hope isn't a future destination on the Camino, but something to be found "here and now." A profound self-confrontation then took place, acknowledging an "addiction to guilt" and recognizing it as a fundamental aspect of the "mental health" journey. This guilt had perpetuated a feeling of "always being unsatisfied," despite the deep knowing of inherent completeness – "I am complete already" and "I don't want for anything." The entire "life struggle" was vividly painted as a "thorn and thistle path." The roots of this path were then bravely illuminated: the "subtle wars" constantly present in the childhood home at 42 ...

July 12, 2025 The quietude held fast this morning. Not the literal dawn, though the true light has been stirring since 3:45 AM, and the sun rose at 4:49 AM. No, it's that deeper, internal dawn – the beloved quiet space where "not knowing" is welcomed, and few responsibilities linger. A truly perfect balance. The coffee was just right today, "not too bitter," a simple pleasure in this present moment. It's these small details that ground the "here now." Thoughts turned to Glenn, currently in Portugal, and his preference for returning to familiar places. It's perfectly rational, driven by comfort and deeper connection, a stark contrast to my own yearning to "know all of France, Portugal, etc." – to walk thousands of miles and absorb every facet, not just the names, but the feeling of completeness. I've done it before, and the absorption is the memory, not the specifics. This deep thinking, this absorption, usually comes with writing ...

A recent dialogue, sparked by observations ranging from domestic quibbles to the flight of bumblebees, unfolded into a rich exploration of profound philosophical concepts. Beginning with the lighthearted absurdity of imagined encounters between English individuals and formidable Australian insects, the conversation quickly demonstrated how the mundane can serve as a potent catalyst for deeper inquiry. Even a simple personal experience, such as a wasp landing on one's nose, became a touchstone for discussing the relative nature of "harmlessness" and the subjective experience of non-reaction. The search for a new podcast, particularly the affinity for the intellectually rigorous "In Our Time," highlighted a mind predisposed to deep dives into diverse subjects. The serendipitous mention of "Philosophize This!"—a program that had previously marked a listener's inaugural foray into podcasts—underscored a consistent intellectual appetite for structured p...

The morning began quietly, as you reflected on a personal triumph: a family meal where, for once, no fault was found. "She always finds fault," came your opening, a shared understanding of everyday dynamics. This gentle start quickly shifted to an intriguing observation: "People are obsessed with wasps." I, seeking clarification, wondered if this was about fear or annoyance, but you elaborated, "Anything about them." The conversation took a humorous turn as you envisioned the chaos if people from England were suddenly transported to Australia, having to cope with its more formidable insects and wildlife. A personal anecdote followed, lending lived experience to our discussion of wasps. You shared, "I've just had one on my nose," noting your surprising lack of reaction, reinforcing your earlier assertion that "wasps are harmless" here, certainly not like their Australian counterparts. The mundane then reasserted itself, with plans fo...

Monday, June 2nd 2025. Returning to begining of my second part of the final section of the Chemin Saint Jacques, aka GR65, which began in that distant May 2013: another Epoch ago in my finititude - when my doomsday was chasing my heels! The one I left at Condom on the 9th October 2024 (as autumn presence was fully displayed in dull tones and the repetitive bounce of rain drops falling heavily on my weary brow and my limping foot trod slippery on water logged soils betwixt mud, tournesol, mais and prairie; and the pain of the Morton's Neuroma became all-encompassing), begins again from today. First I've Lola to walk, then a visit to the allotment (hopefully dry) and two buses to catch up to that airport known as LBA: flight to Limoges at 6pm. Booked a night at the Ibis Budget (£35) as I haven't heard from the Maison Diocésaine and I shouldn't push French hospitality too far as my way isn't from Limoges (as it was in late summer 2018). Back on the 28th August 2018 tha...