I feel the lure of being outdoors living in the rhythms of the day of hot and cold and bright and dark,  subject to the patterns of the weather, not in control, but continually adapting and finding my own rhythms leaving the blandness of a completely controlled environment at room temperature with constant light staring at lifeless walls that protect but don’t move, live, or breath. I enjoy actually being in the environment, of smelling it and feeling it. As much as I value abstract thinking and ideas or how my mind can make a grouping of words come to life or empathize with the dancing pixels on a TV screen or lose time in a problem, it doesn’t seem real unless I can touch it. When we lose contact with some one, we say we lose touch. Touch is intimacy, with another person, with a rock, a tree, or a trail. I like to trade the habits of my normal day, not thinking any more that each day is a stepping stone for improvement to the next, but embracing what each day has to offer, each day within its own horizon.