January 31 (chilly moos, shed the blues)

I had to get away from home this afternoon. I found myself at the point of frustrated depression which feels like being caught in a trap and inspires thoughts of chewing off a leg just to get free. Before I actually started gnawing I decided I'd try something a little less destructive first; I grabbed my dog and headed out into the cold, clean air for a long walk down by the lake.

On the drive down I played the radio loud and managed to find The Cure on the dial, a gift from heaven.

I stopped to visit some arctic cows whose breath went out like heavy smoke. They were so black and steady and gorgeous grazing in the snow (in the snow!). What else are they going to do, right?
I never did succeed in disengaging my mind completely and just letting it wander with my feet; I was heavily preoccupied, but the outing still helped. The exercise was good, as was the air, and the snapping of bad photos, and the time with my dog. My hands began to hurt from the cold. I wanted that cold to kill off all my stress—it didn't quite. I could have walked all night, but it's probably not the best place to be alone in the dark, so once the sun set, Izzy and I headed for home. I need more practice "being in the moment" so I don't relive stresses that I could let evaporate into the ether. Zen walks. I need Zen walks.