Do you ever go outside and think to yourself “wow I haven’t been living”? It happened today. I went outside to pick up my delivery and the summer wind swept through me. I looked up and watched it move through the trees and sway the leaves to and fro. And I’m like damn…I’ve been in my head for too long.

Not just “inside my head”, but I’ve been immersed in the internet, in my writing, in books and in work.

Basically indoors. I have to make it a point to live outside of the safe box that I’ve made for myself. I think (that for some) it may be scary to turn their attention to the outside world.

Can we really be like that John dude and live inside a cabin in the forest, away from everything? Where would the mind go?

I imagine a lot of suffering. I live for and love distraction. But to be acutely aware of existence and space…I dunno, man. I’m not sure what’s outside that box.

Where does the mind run? Maybe I’ll try to unplug for a day.

No phone, no books, no writing, no music. I—-I don’t know what I’d do. I suppose it’s so much easier if you take out the solitude factor. Add in another soul and it’s easy. Just converse. Get lost in each other’s presence. Easy.

But can we really stomach being by ourselves, with no form of distraction? Just sitting and being. The mere thought makes me want to live in my box forever.

I am no monk. I am no island.

Maybe it’s time for a partner. Someone to expand the box because it’s perfectly fine if you never venture out.

We’re made for compartmentalizing and houses. And coffins (that’s dark).

Are we, though?