I stepped into the forest.

It felt good to be back.

An odd feeling of coziness enveloped me. I found it comforting to be surrounded by a collection of trees and wild foliage, my footfalls almost hidden by the array of nature sounds percolating about. The smell of campfire smoke from the night before clung to my hoodie, evoking sentiments of general nostalgia as I walked along the trail. An involuntary yawn escaped; a myriad of birds had awakened me this morning a half hour or so before my natural circadian rhythm. I was grateful, though, as getting an early start was the best way to experience Pinnacles, the newest member of the National Park clan (thanks Obama).

A couple miles in I took a seat at a pleasant overlook, appreciating the landscape (it was beautiful) and looking for condors (no luck). I began to contemplate my personal level of contentment, marveling at the overall feeling of rightness that has marked the second part of my journey. While the early stages of my trip were rife with adventure and splendor, I feel that I have lately come to a fresh place of rest. This is due, in large part, to my whole concept of time. Standing in line for 25 minutes at a post office is no longer annoying, nor do I feel the need to whip out my Smart device to occupy myself. I can just stand there. I don’t feel that gnawing anxiety that often comes when us humans are kept waiting.

Life on the road has made time rather boundless. It may sound slightly hippy-dippy, but the truth is my days are not kept on track by an external schedule, save for the occasional check-out time and ranger program I hope to hit. Hiking in Pinnacles park, the miles float past, wrapped up in my wandering mind and here-and-now observations. I can sit on a cliff-side with no place to go, free to just be.

And I enjoy this time – oh how I cherish it.

Because at the beginning, it was difficult to let go of my idea of having to be somewhere and needing to check my watch on a regular basis. My days are no longer mandated by a rigid schedule, and, in accepting this, I have found ease in the simplicity of life.

It’s beautiful, letting time do its thing, while I focus on squeezing as much joy out of my days as possible.

It’s a much better way.