I wrote this in February and I can't remember why, but I think that some of it is still true in my life today.

reality and myth

possibility and hope

want and disgust

prohibited and dangerous

fraught with bad timing, bad location, bad motivation.

always wrong, always watched, always calculated.

but what beyond all of this exists? is there anything true in the fabric of the mystery, 

or will the mystery complete itself and never be realized?

come and find peace, in the unknown and unexplored.

come to terms with change and end and lingering metal on mouth and the sense that tomorrow has no promises, 

for good and sad

amen.

Lately I have been thinking of the necessity of leaving and returning, as a natural pattern in life that facilitates growth and maturity.  Leaving is often good and expanding and returning reminds us of our elements that are more secure and lasting, and it is good to remember what we are made of.  Leaving and returning also shine a different glow on to the dailiness of life, on the little bits of mildew that form in our Wednesday afternoons that are both meaningless and profound.  Perhaps all of life is a dance of leaving and returning to ourselves and others.

Every time our cats pee on another object (like my bed, our couch, raincoats, rugs, and Carissa's computer) they look more and more rodent-like to me.

I can feel my skin shedding and I feel slightly naked in the world.