Here in the dark, when I just am, it doesn’t matter. It isn’t matter. I’m fluid, no longer frozen light but endless waves lapping at the ocean of being.
There are no promises in an almost kind of love. You get half-commitments and loose plans, but overall it is too fluid to be anything solid.
Why has fear become so present in my world? Fear of dying, fear of cancer, fear of seeming inauthentic, fear of offending someone, fear of writing something unoriginal -- which leads to not writing at all, fear of fucking up my kids, fear of not loving good enough, fear of isolating myself, ...
This last one was a year of intense self-reflection and healing. I endured both excitement and pain brought on by the speedy transition of the past few years, and by my commitment to seeing and integrating parts of myself that I had turned away from for so long.