Finding Rhythm with the Wall
There are days when my coach is away or friends are busy, and I still feel the pull toward the court. On those days, I play tennis with the wall.
The wall holds a very particular truth: it never adapts to me.
If I want the rally to continue, I must adjust — my timing, my swing, even the rhythm of my breath — to the ball’s return.
The Pause Between Steps
The Rhine Falls, where stillness meets the endless movement of water.
Sometimes what matters is not the step forward,
nor the step back.
But the pause in between—
the breath that holds us still, the quiet where nothing seems to move.
When the Path Begins
Sometimes, clarity doesn’t come from the outside.
Not from someone’s advice. Not even from analysis.
It begins with a quiet return inward—
A stillness that lets us listen beneath the noise.
The Seasons We Carry Within
Sometimes the leaves turn long before the wind arrives.
Sometimes the air feels heavier in July,
and you know autumn has already stepped inside you,
quietly, without permission.