Tuesday, November 29, 2016


Not again, you think, as the same old shit comes down the pipe. Being tired and angry and tangled up in knots is not enough anymore. You get out your little shovel of integrity and go to work diverting the flow from where you are to where you used to be. Eyes on the prize you say, lifting your gaze to see the luminescent curtain above you. The northern lights pulse and shimmy there against a backdrop of indigo. Watch your words you say. They have power you say. Remember the way you say. That's where your mind goes. The load in your shovel is a bit lighter as you again, and again, lift a load, clear an opening that will allow you to close the gates. You believe that this will become a habit, a learned, ongoing behavior, like drawing breath or pumping heart. That's where I want to be you say, still trying to infuse your doubts with the conviction that it will happen. What have you got to lose you say. Shovel in. Shovel out. You hit bottom.

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