journal: transition

I haven’t known what to post lately. Every glimpse I would normally share seems inauthentic because everything is so transitional right now… so fluid.

If I fill a tablespoon from the Pacific, is it fair to tell you that it is ocean?

It is, and it isn’t.

I am, and I’m not. There is a lot of emptiness in my spoon of
saltwater, a lot of blankness to my page– but I write and unwrite, pour and fill, I poem and I pray that it all brings me closer to something my life needs.

Something my heart

I’m trying too hard to harness the journey, I know. Trying too hard to spoon the ocean, trying too hard to write a story where I tame and am tamed in perfectly equal measure. But it’s a reflex, a grab and a clutch, when you feel like you’re falling. It’s a wave- it ebbs and it flows.

It’s life, doing what life does, and time doing what time does, and I am okay with it all just as often as I’m not.

5 thoughts on “journal: transition

  1. Times of transition stretch a person. That, or it breaks them. Your willingness to be malleable is evident in the unknowing. Be the spoonful. Be the ocean. It matters not. Just be. Know that we are here, desirous of every one of your words; when you don’t share them, it’s okay. We are here.

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