I journal, well...more like scribble random words on a page that eventually become poems or fodder for the stewpot. It is a momentous occassion to use the last page in a journal and start anew. Feels like cause for ceremony, but shit! my tiaras are in storage in Houston.
Anyway, I started a new journal. It's so pretty and purple and bejeweled. I opened the cover to begin scrawling when I found the following passage, written shortly after I moved to Tennessee in August of 2005:
I wonder how long it will take for my mind, my breathing, my spirit to be in tandem with the rhythm of the land? Mind racing, breathing shallow, spirit scattered drown out the birdsong.
Reading this passage transported me through a time portal where I could see myself as I was, using the lenses of today's eyes. I saw a sad, lost, wounded woman who began a journey to become a writer, but in truth was seeking healing, discovery and a homecoming.
How long did it take for my mind, my breathing, my spirit to be in tandem with the rhythm of the land? A while...but for many mornings now, I wake to the sound of birdsong as the sun rises over the ridges to the East.
I sacrificed love, livelihood and everything familiar to venture into the unknown. Was it worth it? Time will tell. For now, I sit expectant in the promise of a new life I am creating with every thought, every breath, every dream.