Yes, I have a new archenemy—more on that in a moment—but during my daily hikes with Vlad, I’ve been trying to focus on other things instead.

One of them is a curious sign—one I somehow missed the first time we encountered it, though fortunately, without any dire consequences.

It’s found before our favorite hike, exactly eight minutes away from home.

It’s three minutes to the highway, then three minutes and two exits on that, and finally, two more minutes to the trail’s parking lot.

Somewhat mysteriously, mere moments before we round into the lot, this sign appears.

Once you round the corner, you are indeed technically crossing a bridge—the very tiny one Vlad is inspecting in the photo below.

What’s interesting to me—particularly given that Recognition is the theme I’m exploring in this month’s meditation HERE—is that the bridge requires exactly that from its travelers.

Neither a one-way nor a two-way road, it’s all about taking turns.

For traffic to flow smoothly, recognition is essential.

Speaking of taking turns, with the intense inward focus of our writer’s retreat, my only real time apart from Vlad these days is when I swim at the gym.

(Please note, this is the only secret I keep from him. As a Pisces—and having recently learned to swim—I’m convinced he’s incredibly drawn to the water.)

In any case, I was delighted to learn that as perhaps the highpoint of our civilization, at my new gentrified gym one must reserve a 30-minute slot for a lane via the app.

Thus, there is no awkward lane-sharing, no impatient poolside waiting for someone to finally finish their laps.

Each slot becomes available exactly 48 hours in advance on the app.

You can even select a ♡ to set up email reminders for when your favorite times open up.

I find the system as elegantly designed as any Mozart symphony, and have been serenely splashing away three times a week.

It was perfection—that is until my new archenemy, a trainer named “Kim,” called me last Thursday, threatening the sanctity of my reservation.

I was working with several creative clients (Info HERE), so I didn’t notice the voicemail message until 7pm.

Fumbling a bit over her words, Kim announced she was “from the gym” and she wanted to know if I was “100 percent committed” to my Saturday swim reservation since she had a client who also wanted it.

This was both bizarre and audacious, particularly since I’d made the reservation two hours before.

Kim offered no compelling reason for her request—only that someone else wanted what I had.

The most outrageous twist was that she more or less demanded that I call her back that evening, giving the subtle implication that if I did not the reservation would be forfeit.

When I did call back, Dan the front desk guy was both baffled and unhelpful.

While he confirmed my reservation was solid, he had no idea who Kim was—and wasn’t particularly interested in finding out.

Realizing I was trapped in a real-life version of a Seinfeld bit, I composed a strongly worded email to the manager instead.

You may recall the scene in question, but if you want a refresher it’s HERE.

Jerry has reserved a mid-sized rental car.

When he arrives to pick it up, the clerk tells him there are no more cars available.

Perplexed as to how this could be since he’d made a reservation, when Jerry presses further, the clerk is dismissive.

She insists she knows how reservations work.

Jerry defies this statement, telling the clerk that that apparently they know how to take the reservation, but not how to hold the reservation, which is really the most important part.

Frankly, I couldn’t agree more.

When it comes to recognition and romantic love, Rumi’s gorgeous lines say it all:

The minute I heard my first love story,
I started looking for you,
not knowing how blind that was.

Lovers don’t finally meet somewhere,
they’re in each other all along…”

Echoing that theme, I also love this poem by Wisława Szymborska, the 1996 Polish winner of the Nobel Prize for Literature.

Love at First Sight

They’re both convinced
that a sudden passion joined them.
Such certainty is beautiful,
but uncertainty is more beautiful still.

Since they’d never met before, they’re sure
that there’d been nothing between them.
But what’s the word from the streets, staircases, hallways—
perhaps they’ve passed by each other a million times?

I want to ask them
if they don’t remember—
a moment face to face
in some revolving door?
perhaps a “sorry” muttered in a crowd?
a curt “wrong number” caught in the receiver?—
but I know the answer.
No, they don’t remember.

They’d be amazed to hear
that Chance has been toying with them
now for years.

Not quite ready yet
to become their Destiny,
it pushed them close, drove them apart,
it barred their path,
stifling a laugh,
and then leaped aside.

There were signs and signals,
even if they couldn’t read them yet.
Perhaps three years ago
or just last Tuesday
a certain leaf fluttered
from one shoulder to another?
Something was dropped and then picked up.
Who knows, maybe the ball that vanished
into childhood’s thicket?

There were doorknobs and doorbells
where one touch had covered another
beforehand.
Suitcases checked and standing side by side.
One night, perhaps, the same dream,
grown hazy by morning.

Every beginning
is only a sequel, after all,
and the book of events
is always open halfway through.

It’s quite possible the lovers have passed each other a thousand times before, but the romance can only begin with the magic of recognition.

In that spirit, I find moving in a different way, this extraordinary masterpiece by Yeats.

When You Are Old

When you are old and grey and full of sleep,
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;

How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or true,
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face;

And bending down beside the glowing bars,
Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled
And paced upon the mountains overhead
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.

Beyond mere infatuation with her youthful beauty, he tells his muse he loves even “the sorrows of your changing face”—for he alone recognizes her “pilgrim soul.”

Deep down, isn’t that what we all want?

Although the manager of the gym promptly responded, continuing the Seinfeld dynamic, she didn’t fully apologize for her employees calling up members asking if they were truly committed to the reservations they’d just made.

In a nod to Kim’s confusion, the manager admitted in her message that they had considered eliminating the reservation system entirely—but the members rebelled.

For once, the crowd showed true wisdom.

Yes, just like on our daily “One Lane Bridge” crossings, the system comes with limitations.

Even so, everything works perfectly—as long as each traveler acknowledges the other’s right of way.

The flow continues seamlessly, for as the poem tells us:

“Every beginning
is only a sequel, after all,
and the book of events
is always open halfway through.”

Sometimes, our journeys flow best not by overlapping but by learning to share the lanes before us.

And just as “certainty is beautiful, but uncertainty is more beautiful still,” this is a harmony achieved through recognition—not only of who arrived first, or actually made the reservation online, but ultimately of the pilgrim soul in each of us.