I'm back. But where do I start? Lost inside my own head, batting aside the words and phrases that scatter around me like leaves in a fickle wind, the words that used to come easier, settling butterfly-soft into the back of my hands before sliding out of my fingertips into whatever form I chose to release them. Nobody really knows how to begin anything, the first time, but harder still is to begin a second time, with the benefit of having seen. Instead of forging ahead, blithely unaware of rocky ground and deep water, it seems safer to pick a cautious path, walking lightly and hesitating, although I would love to charge ahead, make up lost ground and dash gleefully past where I was and on into new areas. So. This careful treading and picking my way and wishing back the ground I've lost instead of taking it back myself...isn't doing me any good. But I'll treat is like the first days of summer, when I toss my shoes into a dark corner to hide until fall comes, and run barefoot out into the world. It's easy to pick and choose my way, avoiding the rough patches and sharp places--but if I do that, my feet will never toughen. It's only by choosing the challenges that I'll stumble and wince my way into the freedom to run where I will.
