Today, I begin again. I feel as though I’m 83, not 43. I feel like one of those blow-up characters from the 60s, the bottoms of which were filled with sand…no matter how hard you knock them down, they just pop right back up again.
I guess I must have a lot of sand in my feet.
Continuous beginnings are like re-cooling a very warm room after the AC has been off all day. Takes more energy than just leaving it on low. Or, like shutting off your computer, then turning it on again…and off, and on, on off on off…eventually your hard-drive goes. Is my hard-drive gonna go, too?
The trick is in the middle. The white, creamy center. If I could just GET to my middle. Getting to the middle is seamless it seems, for some. For me? Not so much. The middle is about accepting your past. However, as I write this, I’m creating a past I know I don’t want.
So, I begin again. I’m creating a new past. I will get to that creamy center.