I managed to walk all the way to our front door without checking my phone once, mindful of every step, looking to fool myself into enjoyment. There were no tailor shops on the way. But having to walk anywhere reminds me of that Neruda poem everybody had to read in high school.

I had woken up at five, felt sad, which is what the tailor shop poem is about. I may have stopped to stare at a bird upon a tree along the way, but mostly I looked down.

When being mindful, you’re supposed to tag every thought that enters your head as thinking and return focus to your steps, your breathing.

It’s such a good poem, though.

This is what I think: sometimes, if you’re lucky, it can seem like most of the trouble in life comes down to distinguishing between a branch, a bird, and the spot now almost totally absent of the bird if it weren’t for the heavy quiet falling upon the branch in sullen remembrance of the bird’s flight.

But really, it all comes down to the breath.You suddenly become aware of how most everything around it has you surrounded.