Today, predawn, shortly after 5:00 AM, low 40°s, crystal clear. Distant crows, further distant rooster, bats above, swooping, pinging, chimes chiming beneath the cedar,…
We’re on the cusp of a perennially bittersweet transition. One among many. A seasonal migration mid a monsoon of transitions. Such flux. Such disconcert. Unsettled and evolving. If you’re curious, comfortable with unpredictability, inspired by inflection, then I invite you to join us. I’ll be waxing romantic-but-honest in the days and weeks ahead. Change, inside out, for the hale of heart. Bumps, bruises, and blemishes. But also predawn profiles emerging out of the obscurity of night; stark silhouettes and crystal clarity; the beginning of the end of a familiar, comfortable chapter and the end of the beginning of a still-enigmatic and wonder-filled new chapter. I will stumble. But with your patience, your guidance, I will get up again. And I will emerge on the other side, ready.
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