It’s 7AM and I am out for a fifteen minute, around-the-block walk. I am walking with my head to the sky and turning around every twelve seconds because the sky keeps changing, the tapestry of sunrise a vast array of purples and oranges and pinks, and I feel as if I am going to miss it if I look away too long. I am offering an awkward grin to the dog-walkers that avert my eyes, and a less awkward “good morning” to the ones willing to risk eye-contact, and then turning my eyes right back to the mountains.

“Why don’t you just put yourself out there?” They ask. Sometimes it’s with an earnest look on their face. At others, it’s asked with a veneer of confusion.

No matter the tone, the implication is there: if you put yourself out there, you’ll find a partner.

As you walk the road of suffering,
May peace be the sound of your footfalls
Each step a reminder
That no path runs forever.

Not the beautiful, ethereal words that maneuver themselves into sentences that convey some aspect of the human experience. Not the words that make meaning out of suffering, that create space for the mysteries of existence.