I run again up the silent road onto a farmtrack and into a dark wood. For moments, only moments, I can stop thinking, feel the pressure to think but not think and for those few moments the curly crowns of the oaks and the flat, fresh cut hay fields are a simple subtle delight. I say subtle for that is my current observation; that profound joy is expression happiness not escape happiness. So it has a softer feeling, an easy-flowing rightness not the fiery high of ego-led delusion.