Orient feels like a whole-body word to me. Not something my mind decides and then asks my body to follow, but something that allows everything to line up first. It feels like arranging myself in a direction, rather than forcing momentum before I’m ready.
Right now, I feel scattered. There is so much I want to do, and it’s easy for me to overwhelm myself or slip into decision paralysis. This practice exists because I need a way to center myself before that happens. Orient gives me permission to pause and find my footing before I move.
Harvest Moon has always felt like that kind of pause. I know the song is Neil Young’s tribute to enduring love, but for me it has always meant something slightly different. It uses the quiet beauty of the harvest moon to symbolize contentment, steadiness, and the simple joy of just being alive. There’s no rush in it. No urgency. Just presence.
I’ve learned that when I don’t take time to orient, I tend to act impulsively. I jump into things before I understand why I’m doing them, and eventually I burn out. Orienting first feels like a way to honor both my energy and my limits.
Today is not about deciding everything. It’s about giving myself permission to take time… to ground, to center, and to understand the why before the doing. From here, direction can come naturally.
Onward.
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