These days, I feel I’m hurtling through space on a comet, bound for some unfathomably beautiful place. The journey is largely defined by peaceful, soundless travel. Occasionally its punctuated by dodging asteroids, harrowing moments of hanging on for fear life while turning loop-de-loos.

I set my course. I pointed my feet. The peace that fills me daily grows stronger, solidifying inside me, as opposed to the gossamer wings I once used to fly just barely above the fires of anxiety, always fueling my progress with external feedback, searching for meaning in the constructs handed to me from everyone I’d ever met, and even more from those I’d never meet. Now with increasing regularity, the inner barometer within my chest lifts me high above level-one thinking and reminds me that wherever I am, that’s where I am, not in any past or future place, despite my ego clawing desperately to put roots in anything but the now.

I am alight with energy. From the Earth. From the vibrant foods I ingest. From the chaos and vibrating murmur of civilization. From all that transpired to provide me with this luck of the draw, this hand of cards. I ooze possibility. I sail on tailwinds toward the horizon, ripe with an endless sunset of pinks, lavenders, and blazing oranges. The sea salt sprays my face, mixing with the salt in my happy tears. I lick my lips and listen.

The bullshit is falling away, the blinders, the chosen sleepwalking. The excuses which padded the bowling lane of my failures before. Now there are no bumpers, there are no lanes, no pins, no balls. I twist and turn effortlessly through the sky, undefined in form, driven by boundless energy and light.

I’m scared of myself. I feel the power welling up to the levees in me. I see it breaching soon, and there will be no stopping it. The previous years’ comfort of refusing to move no longer an option, I fill my lungs with air




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