I’m at the crux of both an ending and a beginning, buffeted by waves of terror and certainty. I long for security and the social approval of returning to work; yet some fierce green seedling keeps pushing up against whatever concrete ceiling is tamping it down.
It’s easier to focus on nurturing the dreams of others than face the scary audacity of forging a creative practice. Only my spiritual sense of the world makes it possible to step forward into the unknown--my belief that all of nature bends toward me in sympathetic assistance, as long as I keep moving.
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