July 1, 2025 | Issue #12 | Unhurried Miles
In this week's edition we’ll unpack:
Train Analogies – a slow ride through train tracks and analogies, and how these journeys, like train rides, can teach us to let go of the rush.
Occam’s Razor – a centuries-old reminder that sometimes the simplest explanation is often the truest one.
Wisdom From Wild – how you don’t always need the whole map, just the courage to keep walking.
May these words find you well, as we untangle our thoughts and explore new ideas…
“Life is a journey to be experienced, not a problem to be solved.”
— Winnie the Pooh (A.A. Milne)
Watching the World Woosh By
As July arrives with its slow, hazy days, it brings with it a sun-dappled reminder of what it means to truly let go of the clock and savor the unhurried moments.
This past week, I boarded a train with my family, bound for the colorful city of New Orleans— and somewhere between the steady hum of the rails and the blur of green outside my window, I realized why so many keep coming back to train rides and the analogies they carry with them.
Start, stop, start again— are you, or are you not ready? Whether you think you are or not, I’d say: do it anyway.
Forget waiting for “when I know what to do,” or “ when the time is right,” or “when x, y, 1, 2, 3 finally line-up.” The fear of not being in control, fear of the unknown, fear that the stars won’t align just right— will keep you standing on that platform forever.
I’ll admit: the train might take longer than you’d hoped. It might stop in unexpected towns or sit idle on the tracks for a while. But eventually, it still gets you where you need to go.
“I like trains. I like their rhythm, and I like the freedom of being suspended between two places, all anxieties of purpose taken care of: for this moment I know where I am going.”
― Anna Funder, Stasiland: Stories from Behind the Berlin Wall
Before this recent trip with my family to the brilliantly amazing city of New Orleans, I’d started leaning on train analogies quite a bit. The more I used them, the more I understood the meaning behind them, along with why there are so many train analogies. It turns out, analogy itself has a pretty fascinating history:
The word comes from the Greek analogia— meaning proportion— and was first used as a mathematical term. Aristotle explored it as a way to understand relationships, and Plato expanded its use to help bridge abstract ideas to familiar ones.
So, love them or hate them, analogies help shrink something enormous down to a size we can hold in our hands. That’s why I use and lean on them so often, they’re little mental train cars that carry meaning from one place to another.
Train rides have done that for people for generations. There’s something so undeniably nostalgic, almost cinematic, about the slow rumble across the rails. They’ve inspired songs, novels, poems, films— and now, my own reflections it seems. Until this ride, my only reference point was the hurried commute of subways and metros. But an Amtrak through the American South is a different creature altogether. It’s one of the last true Americana experiences left: no rush, no real control, just you and the scenery slipping by outside— sometimes a vivid landscape that is paint worthy, sometimes a blur.
There’s the steady rocking of the cars, the horn’s lonely call at crossings, the strangers you meet in the dining car — the quiet exchange of stories over lukewarm coffee. A train reminds you to slow down, to relish the getting-there as much as the arrival.
Fun Takeaway: I suppose that’s the real analogy hidden in plain sight: life isn’t about the perfect schedule or the fastest route. It’s about finding a window seat, settling in, and watching the world woosh by— a little more yourself at every stop along the way.
Philosophy of the Week:
Occam’s Razor
When life, or anything for that matter, begins to feel complicated, sometimes the answer is simpler than we think. That’s where Occam’s Razor comes in– a centuries old idea that reminds us not to over-complicate what might be clear and straightforward.
Occam’s Razor is a principle from the 14th-century philosopher William of Ockham. He suggested that when you’re faced with competing explanations, the simplest one (the one with the fewest assumptions) is usually the best starting point.
Scientists, detectives, and thinkers still use this idea every day to cut through unnecessary clutter and get to the heart of a problem.
It doesn’t promise life will always be simple, but it does remind us we don’t always have to make it harder than it is.
So next time you find yourself tangled in too many “what ifs” or complex excuses, try asking: What’s the simplest explanation? Notice where you can let the little simplicity slice through the noise— sometimes the most clear path really is the truest one.
Day2Day Survival Tip:
Walk the Block
When your mind feels tangled or the day won’t sit still, give yourself 10 quiet minutes to literally walk it off.
Leave your phone behind— no calls, no podcasts, no distractions. Just step outside, pick a direction, and take a slow loop around your block.
Don’t rush it. Let your eyes wander: notice the cracks in the sidewalk or the road, the old trees leaning over fences, the smell of a neighbor’s garden or someone’s dinner drifting through the air. Listen for the birds, the crickets, your own footsteps landing one after the other.
A simple walk around the block can remind you there’s a whole world beyond your to-do list and that sometimes the best way to move forward is to step outside, one small circle at a time.
If you need a reason to pause this week, let this be it— just put on your shoes, get a cool washcloth cause it’s hot out, open your door, and walk the block. The rest can wait for you.
Words of Wisdom:
Before I sign off this week, I’ll leave you with a little reminder inspired by Cheryl Strayed’s Wild.
She writes about how, alone on the Pacific Crest Trail with blistered feet and an aching back, she didn’t always know where she was going or how she’d get there. What she did know was that she had to keep putting one foot in front of the other— no matter how heavy her pack felt or how lost she felt inside.
Out there in the wilderness, she learned that you don’t need a perfect plan. You don’t need to have it all figured out. You just need enough courage to take the next step, and then the next, and trust that the trail will rise up to meet you.
“I walked and I walked, my mind shifting into a primal gear that was void of anything but forward motion, and I walked until walking became unbearable, until I believed I couldn't walk even one more step.
And then I ran.”
― Cheryl Strayed, Wild: From Lost to Found on the Pacific Crest Trail
