This is a messy, drippy page. I try to stick to the principle that all ink is holy, that it all has purpose and meaning. When I refill my markers, I do it over a page in my journal, and then I wait (sometimes a really long time) for the right words to come along for it. Practice isn’t always pretty, so this page, I thought, would make a good home for these words about practicing.
I love the one that says, “Practice meandering toward the center of every place.” This one and the others are from Phil Cousineau’s “The Art of Pilgrimage.”