Nine of Coca

I spent part of the evening sitting on a bench in the plaza with my journal open beside me. I had picked up something small to eat and a cup of tea, and for once I didn't feel any need to figure out what I should do next. I just sat there watching people cross the plaza as the light began to change over the mountains.

At one point I looked around and had this strange, wonderful realization: I didn't want anything. I had eaten. I was warm. My feet were tired from a good day of walking. My journal was full of things I wanted to remember. There were mountains in front of me and somewhere comfortable waiting for me when I was ready to sleep. I had nowhere else I needed to be.

I think I spend so much of life looking toward whatever comes next that I don't always recognize the moment when I've arrived at enough. Tonight, sitting in that plaza, I did. There was nothing else I needed.