It is in inevitable. I’m walking toward myself, and the weight of old ways has to go. Some of it has fallen off, like old skin I didn’t even notice disappearing. Other pieces have to be pushed away, scraped off like a scab, and I know I will be raw as I heal and grow into a new form.
Incessantly, we are rebuilding our cells, our skin, our look. We have the same constant nature, but shift form and presence, depending on light, water, or environment. How far I have come; how much more I have to grow. Still the desire to do so pushes forth from within and I wonder whether I am drowning or flourishing in this space?
I have existed in so many forms. My energy currently feels like an unharnessed force. My desire is to put forth something new and authentic. But I am not plugged in anymore; I feel lost and fumbling.
I never tell stories. Even when I recount moments, I stumble and lack true memory to what happened. I go for humor instead to camouflage the parts that feel uncomfortable.
I must conspire my own magic to go after what I want. It doesn't feel like a grand pursuit, one that will surely evade me, but rather more a coaxing, like with a vulnerable animal that I ache to help.
I want to yell, "I AM HERE!" and make something happen, yet it feels like I am standing alone in a great valley surrounded by mountains, and the remains of my voice and my energy are bouncing off matter around me. Echoing. I am left my own devices.
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This is for after your escape. After all the heavy breath and tears it required to tear you away from your chains.
This is for when you have already felt the elated freedom of being on the outside of it all.
This moment comes once you have settled and started to look around and consider what you should do next.
When you consider whether you made the right decision and fear failure is right at your back.
Don’t look back.
Now you are truly alive and you only have your internal devices to survive.
Anything is possible.
It is up to you to decide.