A Morning, Two Rabbits, and the Shape of Time
It’s been a while since my last blog update, and I apologize to any one—or possibly two—readers out there. Most of my time lately has been consumed by the less romantic side of being an author: trying (and often failing) to promote and market my book. It’s taken up more hours than I’d care to admit—sometimes even more than the more important task of actually writing the next one. But this morning, something small interrupted that cycle. I was outside, taking the garbage out—nothing glamorous about it—when I paused. The sun was just cresting the trees, that soft early light spilling across the yard. Two rabbits sat quietly in the grass I’d cut just a day or two before, completely at ease, enjoying the morning in a way that felt… deliberate. Peace. It made me wonder—what happened to that kind of peace? The kind we had when we were younger, when time itself felt abundant. Back then, days stretched endlessly. Hours moved slowly enough that we could settle into them. Now, you wake up, pour ...