Knowing where you are without needing to land.
It’s easy to assume that knowing where you are requires knowing exactly where you’re going.
That orientation only counts if it’s attached to a destination—some finish line you can name and measure. But I’ve started to think you can have bearings without an agenda. A sense of where you are that doesn’t insist on where you should end up.
There are moments when orientation feels more important than arrival.
Standing in a place you’ve never been, knowing just enough to see how the pieces fit together. Turning a question over in your mind until you understand its shape, even if you never answer it. Feeling the weather of a moment without trying to predict what comes next.
Drifting isn’t the same as being lost if you’re paying attention.
There’s a calm in moving without urgency. A quiet precision in acknowledging what’s around you—landmarks, currents, signals—without converting them into instructions. It’s a way of staying alert without forcing everything to become a plan.
You don’t need an endpoint to feel grounded.
Sometimes bearing is simply the practice of noticing where you are. The recognition that direction can be enough on its own.
Bearing is a direction, not a demand.
Longitudes Unclaimed 