The shift happen around 530 this morning in the Fish Market district here in Seattle-the night people go somewhere and the day people appear.
I’m having a cup of Pike coffee at the Starbucks on first and Pike: it’s old here, but the coffee is fresh.
I’m feeling stretched this morning after my introductory night in the Green Tortoise Hostel–a sold out building with a variety of folk. There are as many languages spoken here as there are bunk beds. No fighting and no flat screen t.v.s.
I have the sense there is more going on underground here in Seattle , both physically and spiritually, than maybe going on at street level.
Today, I work on transportation toward the trail, but first I want to see all that raw fish Seattle is famous for.
Spiritual Formation 