Long days in the saddle…. in the middle of nowhere… with nothing to distract the mind, nothing to look out for, no directions to follow… is some kind of meditation, indeed. Around, and around, and around. The circles spin. The tires roll. We’ve been crossing some incredibly isolated and rural bits of West Texas – some days gift us with 60 miles of nothing in between any hints of civilization. And in these stretches we can hear ourselves. Loud and clear. Like a radio tower. Pulsing. The intense hours inside my own head are a treasure, sometimes frightening, sometimes inspired and delicious. But all the while, every day, I’m getting to know myself a bit better. And I’m taking the time… to notice the little things… like the grasshoppers. and butterflies. and the way the wind whips at the grasses. and the melodic pace of a centipede as it crosses the silent desert concrete. the sunbathing dragonflies. and the ups, and downs, and ups, and downs, of the endless rolling hills of West Texas. Alert. Awake. Aware. This is delicious.