We are all one moment, one foot or one hand misplaced from our earthly end.
Unscathed , I haven’t had my life flash before my eyes.
If I close them, I can see right through to the end of this day.
Affirming self-pinch verification, you woke.
You are alive.
“There is only one day left, always starting over: it is given to us at dawn and taken away from us at dusk.” – Jean-Paul Sartre
Most of us start here, launch ourselves headlong on this week’s journey, recharged by weekend adventures, or hopeful for better prospects for next weekend.
This week, winter’s end, though it isn’t looking so spring-like outside this morning.
This last week of my writing year, nearing end of twelfth, contemplating my thirteenth year of writing words on this page every morning.
I am often asked why, more than I am asked how?
How became apparent early on, as I learned I could do this, learned I do have something to day and as I found I was not alone in my thoughts. As I learned my perspective was one people liked to hear/see each day, I learned putting ourselves in the open is not so scary, not so vulnerable.
We are at greater risk keeping things in than in letting them out.
This coming year of change – I don’t have any announcement of what form this will take.
Several in-the-works, no certainty what path I will follow, other than to know I will not be sitting still, will not be sitting quietly.
Not on Monday morning.
Not any morning.
Until all of me is still.
column written/ published from Calgary, AB
morning walk: -3C/27F, light snow overnight and still falling – now those rabbits will be really confused about which coat to where; Gusta liked the romp in the white stuff, I liked the traction … and by afternoon it will all be slush and spring-temps will return for the rest of the week .. maybe ..
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