October now nearly passed in its cold spells and gloomy days has brought back the sense of dependence on what one has and let people feel again the weight of personal circumstance. Some it's rendered appreciative, some weary and I found my self, once more, reevaluating to the core, all that I've known.
Again. As if it were all I knew how to do.
Betting on my ability to carry on progressively without settling for a place in a life but mine.
Rolling on, no name, no account carried forward.
Shedding skin and gearing up for the challenges to come.

I used to call flying a self bestowed purpose. I was enthusiastic to accept a direction I couldn't dispute, as non less fallible in matters of my soul but my self had conjured it.
And I'm grateful for the course. I have a track to navigate and the simple and the more precarious matters of life too become but elements calculated till an appropriate heading is obtained.
Finally a goal well desired.
Life I chose, not a purpose. Purpose is a utopia, innately yearned sense of appropriateness only achieved asleep, dreaming.
With the focus and energy and the achievements gained, burdens came alongside and a religion emerged; a source of consolation and justice on matters of heartache. The nostalgia for the variety of futures to browse through, when choice had yet to be made.
Goodbye young man, welcome a guy in his thirties.
I'm not even as late as I was to my teens or the bit after.

well .... Only the leanest meat can stay on the bones.

No excitement is allowed on the job. Clearest judgement and cold calculation are of the essence. Enjoyment can be drawn along the way but only along the way and in doses appropriate to the momentary thrill.
Purpose was a dream of a dream become and it brought me through. And I wake up sensing time as a part of my mind.
It is not a purpose neither is it a life i didn't have. It is not new. It's just as if from the training ground deployed. Wood timbered and selected for manufacture. It's out to be defined.
Particular outcomes of encounters and actions become desirable the same way as satisfying hunger is. Value gained was never before equalled with distraction incurred.

So, no, I'm not instantly happy and content just by figuring something out. But I finally know how to become; It is for the first time safer than it is dangerous to buckle down and work hard.
The time come to learn to live with the good and the bad of a commitment.
I'll be damned, if it wasn't about just that from the start...

A month or so ago I bought my self a new pair of shoes. Barefoot too as I can't imagine I would ever again wear another. They are the same model as the previous ones, only in different colour. They are not black, they look like a shoe that some people might generally not wear and I can't be anybody I need to be in them. But I'm more than comfortable in them being my self which lately I've been in abundance.
I waxed them two days after I bought them. This has never happened before so fast if it had happened at all. Thursday rained all day and I went to site in Mayfair, walking about, popping to a design studio in Soho Square and to grab a lunch in between in China Town.
By that time of the day puddles were ever present and the downpour was yet to show a sign regress.
And i was dry. Like, full on cosy warm and dry.
It is a good pair. With attention they've proven to be great. Yesterday, I cleaned them thoroughly and re-waxed them.
Expendable assets seem now to be allowed to attain emotional value through attention given to them.

I wondered the other day or a few, whether I was always so cold and only just found out or whether I'm maybe slowly succumbing to the lack of tenderness in my life. And whether these two explanations exclude one another.

However!
I have flown over 36 hours of which near 6 solo.
I have passed all nine written exams, killing eight at 100% and Met at 93.
Left to go and get are: the radio license and with it connected language proficiency test, a long cross country flight dual and solo, and the final skills test.
I'm good at it; I get the law, I appreciate the procedures and environments, I feel comfortable in flight and handle the plane with confidence.
I'm behind my initial schedule, but not for reasons I could have predicted or avoid and I'm wiser for it too.
I planned a nav. flight and flew it past Beachy Head. To where I last saw a Spitfire.
I spent two hours flying solo circuits practising landings. I now land much better.
I flew nav. solo to another airport and landed and then came back. I started feeling little bit like a pilot.

Prancing above Surry: