When the pupil is ready the master will appear.

Spinning, everything is spinning again. I’m too used to sleeping and lazy days, cushy jobs and hazy nights. Pulling my head out of the sand seems almost too much to bear. I peek out and am scared back in. It’s downright stupid. I have to make this all meaningful. I have to find meaning in routine and rote. I have a lot of rocks to break to catch up with the rest of you with leaner minds. It would be easier if the story of my life was not a man vs. self conflict.