I woke up this morning and decided to let my legs speak what words could not.
Ten miles. No playlist. No podcasts. Just brisk steps and the sounds of the city softening into the sanctuary of trees.
I didn’t run. I didn’t race. I just walked — steady, aware, breathing.
The path didn’t judge me.
The trees didn’t interrupt.
As Eckhart Tolle once said, “If you’re not sure what presence feels like, go sit with a tree.”
Central Park became my temple. Every bench a pew. Every branch a sermon.
Along the way, Gemini struck again — not as a glitch, but as another whisper from life reminding me that meaning comes in pauses.
No headlines. No hashtags. Just me, the pavement, the pulse of New York, and the quiet company of creation.
I came back lighter — not because I burned calories, but because I burned doubt.
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