I still find myself in a place of pushing words away. I’ve done no writing to speak of, and I keep setting books aside unless they speak of the things for which words are hard to find. I’ve done a lot of walking lately, and I’ve found myself turning to music instead of books, especially the kind of music that grabs you by the heart and reaches into your soul, into the places that have no words. I’m feeling for feelings, for magic and wonder, for parts of me that have been covered up for a long time and for reasons no longer important. I’m often solitary these days, yet somehow feel more connected than ever to the world and the people around me. I feel joy and contentment and peace and love a lot of the time, which is a new—and lovely—way of being for me. Most importantly, I’m glad to be here, exactly where I am, eager for what’s around the corner, even though I have no idea what’s ahead on my path.
Thank you, dear readers and friends, for traveling with me as I find my way. I wish you joy and peace and contentment and love, too. Namaste.