a Wisdom Walk Contemplation

This morning, I walked with the Strategist.

Not the schemer. Not the manipulator. But the quiet sentinel of foresight and focus—he with arms crossed like twin roads diverging, pipe clenched between thoughtful lips, eyes scanning the board beyond the board.

He came to me not with answers, but with questions. The kind that stick in your chest and stir up old dust. The kind you don’t rush. You walk with them.

And so I did.

I walked the narrow path behind the studio, past the budding hawthorn and the mud-slick bend where the water gathers. I listened to the rhythm of my boots and breath, and I heard the Strategist speak—not in commands, but in challenges:

“This is what you asked for. Now get to it. Make it happen.”

It wasn’t stern. It was clear.

I’ve been circling this threshold for weeks now—tugged between the noise of the digital souk and the signal of the soul-work I know I’m here to do. The webzine is calling. The deep work—the essays, the zines, the prompts, the transmissions—they’re all there, waiting to be built like cairns on the mythic trail.

But still, I’ve lingered. Distracted by the mirage of movement that social media offers. It feels like momentum, but it’s mostly churn. Easy to confuse activity with progress. The Strategist sees through that illusion.

He doesn’t move for the sake of moving. He waits. He watches. And when he acts—he acts with precision.

So today, I listened. And now, I pass the lantern to you.

If you find yourself walking with the Strategist—perhaps in the quiet hour between tasks, or in the murmur of your morning coffee—see what arises when you ask yourself the following:

Wisdom Walk Prompts | In the Company of the Strategist

1. Where am I placing my attention out of habit, and where could I position it with intention?
What rituals, patterns, or digital distractions have I inherited without reflection? What would it look like to move my attention like a chess piece—not out of reaction, but with mythic foresight?

2. What is the larger narrative arc of my work or life—and how does what I’m doing today serve that unfolding myth?
Is the task before me an echo of my true story, or a detour dressed as productivity? How do the pieces of my creative life fit into a larger soul-map?

3. What tools, stories, or signals do I want to leave behind—for future travellers who may one day follow this path?
What am I building not just for now, but for legacy? What will outlast the scroll, the likes, the fleeting noise?

The Strategist archetype isn’t cold or calculating. He’s soulful. He teaches us to align our effort with our essence. To see through the clutter and move with meaning. To remember that we’re not just playing the game—we’re shaping the story beneath it.

So take a walk. Listen to the rhythm of your steps. And if you feel the presence of the Strategist, don’t run. Don’t rush. Just ask the right questions—and trust that the next move will reveal itself when you’re ready to make it.