100 Days of Hydration

Eight times away, I may come upon a storage of today. Something small—a fragrance, a phrase, or perhaps a fleeting thought—can anchor me right back to this moment. It's unusual to genuinely believe that today may one day experience distant. However, the days in between may tether it to wherever I'm then.

Five times forward feels ambitious to envision. By then, workouts can deepen or disrupt, depending on what functions unfold. It is a interested stability: how much of living is within my 60 days after today and how much simply happens to me? Five days is enough time forever to tell me of both.

Eleven days feels long enough for modify but short enough for familiarity. A tiny habit I embrace nowadays may show its first signals of development by then. Or maybe, a choice I delay today can force itself upon me. The time between now and then feels as though equally a gift and a challenge.

Twelve times ahead feels like a stretch. At this time, my thoughts start to reduce grip on details. As an alternative, I give attention to styles: what type of person can I be in twelve times? Can I develop wiser, kinder, or even more strong? Time grants me options to improve myself, if I let it.