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I love how the ocean washes away the imprint my feet made. It makes me think of how we can start again, try again. With fires all around us and the sick air that has kept me from the beach: we may not be able to reverse the damage, but we can still limit it.
I’ve been receiving signs that I’m on a path that I’ve always intended, even if I didn’t consciously know what it would be. All my learnings, driven by the sacrifices of the past—sacrifices both chosen and not—have led to this time. I often find myself capturing images of paths and footsteps, without consciously understanding them. As Antonio Machado wrote:
Traveller, your footprints
Are the path and nothing more;
Traveller, there is no path,
The path is made by walking.
