The Crow Had Nothing to Say
Day 43 — Gut Nisdorf
Wake-up feel: 6.
4:04. Too much in the head. Waited — no sleep came. Got up. Exercises. Then out.
The winding road between the Bodden and the reed fields, the rapeseed fields and the rising sun to the right. Frost last night. Ground frost. The grass stiff and cold underfoot, the air clean and sharp.
The Bodden was a mirror. Swans scattered across it — not grouped, not worried, placed without apparent reason across the flat silver surface. Fog rising near the shores, but only in certain places. Particular to specific spots. Not everywhere. The water knows what the water knows.
A lone crow flew over the reed fields going south. No crowing. It had nothing to say this morning. It simply went.
Just before the turning point: the cuckoo.
On the way back, the crow flew north again — same line, same silence, going past me. It seemed like it wanted to make sure I was still there. Still following the path.
Root day from 07h. Moon in Capricorn.
Six places are on the table. I am not naming them yet. What I am naming is what I need from wherever I land.
What the 4am requires is not resolution. The mind at 4am has run past the edge of what it can usefully do and is circling. Resolution is not what is needed — resolution will arrive when the terrain reveals it.
What the 4am requires is the next thing. Exercises. The walk. The winding road in the frost. Not because the mind has settled, but because the body has a task that runs independent of whether the mind cooperates.
The crow going south in silence understood this. It had nothing to say. It went. On the return, one pass north to see if I was still there — and then it continued on its own path.
What I need from wherever I land: a practice that does not wait for readiness. That runs at 4am in the frost as cleanly as it runs at 7am in the sun. Not to silence the mind. To give the body its work while the mind catches up.
Let the day perish wherein I was born. — Job 3:3
Thirty-one years in Germany. A tent, a netbook, a connection, and this. Job said the worst thing. Then kept talking for thirty-nine more chapters.
Day 43. I kept on going.
Day 43 — Phase 7 — Word — Bladder — Onyx — Book of Job
Gut Nisdorf, Mecklenburg-Vorpommern, Baltic Coast
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