After all this time, I can’t see what it is I want to write except that I want to write and I know that is my true way in this life.
Read moreTransition
The movement calls me to the moment and I am cast into a sea I can wholly not ignore. Sometimes the business of life is a gift of transition.
Read moreThe Horizon
It is time. The edges of the day are frayed and my curves have grown brittle. I am going stiff where life once flourished. You can see the lines from afar. My breath grows more shallow, my oceans less deep. The mysteries of my existence are either being fully unveiled or or will be lost completely. I cannot give any more. I have a little left and there are a few left to care. I have learned to let go of the beauty I once crafted so delicately. Life was a dance and now I can barely shuffle my feet. I am in for the deep good night. I am ready to lay dormant. I no longer crave to unfurl, I crave to recover.
Perhaps each being comes into their existence as a beautiful flower only to experience disintegration across a lifetime. Decomposition starts long before dying. We fall apart long before we truly see any signs. Then it becomes too late: we are captured, entangled, getting eaten away slowly. Until we too are shuffling towards death's door; until we too fear the brittle sensitivities of a body that can no longer stand the gravity that comes with the force of living. Slowly we slow down until moving becomes too much. It can take a lot of time for the breath of life to leave at space. Once it’s gone, only stardust remains, mingling with the universe until the energy dissipates completely.
How does the Earth die? It’s not in one final quick flash. We all want it to be that way but death is rarely quick and clean. Rather it comes slowly across the horizon; steady in movements but working at its own speed. It is a cowboy, an illusion disappearing and reappearing along the prairie. We fear its approach, crave its absence and can’t stop watching it. Surely though it is coming and the approach is nothing predictable. Should we make ourselves comfortable or prepare to fight?
Destination Unknown
Trust the billowy movement to take you out into the far reaches of this existence. You must believe in the journey. Build your vision, stretch your wings, follow your compass. The creature flying toward you is an unfettered friend; a muse in these surroundings. What story do you want to tell?
Read moreThe Gingerbread House
She was on a journey, not knowing where she was headed, not even understanding what was unfolding before her eyes. She was just trusting her intuition to move her forward. The music soothed her and outside the rain came down at a slant.
Read moreChange is in the Air
The seasons come subtly but they push you into a new mode. You adjust your actions and your clothes. The air around you changes and familiar old smells come back to you.
There is nothing you can do about the evolution taking place. So you delight in the colors around you, in the temperature and the light. The weather anchors your way when you truly have no idea where you’re headed.
You hold hands with your loved ones, you cherish things unseen that make you feel whole. You are headed home.
Unseen
When I began to let go and just notice strange, random occurrences that seemed to be unparalleled and yet so very similar, I started to feel whole and to feel like part of something greater.
Read moreOne 19 Twenty-one
She had grown into a new being,
a new beast,
a new magical monster;
her plumes were no longer hidden.
14. Matilda
She is a storyteller
and she is headed for your door.