Zvone – Inner Dialogue

The Slow Way Out Of Anxiety Three Steps Forward, Two Back I move forward slowly these days. Three steps forward, two back.   Sometimes the opposite. Progress is painfully slow, almost ridiculous at times. Occasionally I notice that I have finally moved a little ahead, and just when I begin feeling proud of myself, something drags me backward again. Then I stop and think: " What pushed me back this time?" Usually the answer is not very mysterious. Exhaustion.   Overthinking.   Isolation.   Bad sleep.   Too much sitting.  Too much thinking.   Too little movement. And somewhere behind all of it, anxiety quietly waiting like an old tax collector who never fully leaves town. I know now that I was deeply anxious for years. At the time I did not fully understand it, I thought I was simply tired, stressed, perhaps too thoughtful, maybe even more intelligent than average. Anxious people often secretly flatter themselves this way: “I think de...

The Rain Was Never the Problem Expectations, Responsibility, and the Strange Freedom of Letting Reality Exist I was standing beneath a small tree somewhere in Mexico, watching dark rain clouds move slowly across the mountains. A few kilometers earlier it had started with light drizzle — the kind of rain cyclists optimistically ignore because admitting reality too early feels emotionally unnecessary. Then the rain became heavier. The branches above me began leaking larger and larger drops, and my confidence in the tree slowly disappeared together with any illusion that this situation would magically improve within the next thirty seconds. The nearest town was still around ten kilometers away. In practical terms, there were only two possibilities. Either I stayed there indefinitely like some damp roadside philosopher, or I continued riding and accepted that both I and most of my equipment would soon resemble abandoned laundry. I turned toward the mountains and started cursing the we...

When Nature Drives Away Loneliness The Strange Fatigue of Modern Life I sit at home in front of the computer, trying to escape boredom. For the last few weeks I’ve been carrying around a strange kind of fatigue. Maybe I’m getting sick. Maybe it’s just spring exhaustion. Or maybe my body is protesting against a lifestyle in which a human being spends more time sitting than the average decorative houseplant. The cause is probably not that important. My days pass between writing, editing photographs, and revisiting memories from my cycling journey through Mexico. At the moment, the computer gives me more satisfaction than work, socializing, or even going outside. Which is slightly ironic, considering that not long ago I spent weeks riding a bicycle through deserts, mountains, and remote dirt roads with almost no preparation whatsoever. And when I eventually grow tired of the screen, something else appears. Not exactly loneliness. That word feels too dramatic. It is more like emptines...