“No, no, there is no going back.
Less and less you are
that possibility you were.”
Wendell Berry’s words are in my bones. Indeed! I have done this before —picking up my stuff, going someplace else, starting again, but never before have I so observed the process. Never before was there so many balls being juggled with the hope that I can catch them all when gravity kicks in. Never before has it been so bittersweet and hard. I bleed bit by bit from Madison every day.
I am almost the tiny man in a midair jump in the tiny painting that I have on my bedside. There is no guarantee that he was land on solid ground. I am not yet in the air but I am no longer on solid and familiar ground either. Continue reading
Another liminal stage of this unexpected life.


