Hey, it's me again

First footsteps in Greenville, SC

I didn’t set out looking for anything special that morning. I just wanted to walk. Clear my head. Maybe let the rhythm of my footsteps settle something in me.

The path was quiet, the air soft. Greenville feels different—lighter somehow, but more alive. I don’t know how else to explain it. It’s not just the trees, though they’re different here. Not just the hills, though I realize now how much I’ve missed terrain with movement. Charleston is so flat, it’s not called the Lowcountry for nothing. Here, the landscape feels like it’s breathing.

And then I saw the labyrinth.

It wasn’t dramatic—just tucked there in the park. But I stopped. I felt something. Or maybe it felt me. I stepped onto it, not really thinking about where it would take me. Just… walking. Turning. Letting myself move through its quiet spirals.

By the time I reached the center, I felt… rearranged. Like something old had fallen away. I stood still, let the moment settle. It was subtle, but I knew something had shifted. I turned around, walked out, and felt like I had stepped into a new version of myself. A new timeline, maybe.

And I thought: Maybe I’m not getting closer to Source. Maybe I’m just allowing less to block me from it.

It hit me that I’ve always been searching. I’m not even sure what for anymore. I used to think it was a person, and then that it was a place. Now I know it’s something else, and I don’t know how to define it.

And that not-knowing? It’s freeing. I’m not waiting for someone to save me. I’m not holding onto some magical locale where everything clicks. But I do know I want to be here again. In this energy. On this land.

I sat by the falls after that. Let the sound hold me for a while. Something is unfolding. I don’t know what, but I know it’s mine.

Back to the drawing board, back to sharing here on Substack.

And so it is.