the dust motes dancing in the one beam of light through the kitchen window, that's what got me , not the coffee, not the cold shower, just that tiny chaos made visible... and it occurred to me, not for the first time, but with a different kind of punch, that we're all just dust, aren't we, all these stories and strategies and miles run, just dust catching the light for a little while, and the notebook is filling up with all the same lessons, just phrased differently, like the body trying to say the same word over and over until the tongue finally gets it right, or maybe, until the heart does, dex would say i'm getting soft, but the ground feels good under my feet , like it's not something to conquer but something to dance with, and that's the kind of lesson that sticks, the kind that settles into the bones, not just the muscles, i think i finally understand it.