|Writer's Alcove (CAI2019)|
Is it still 2019? I have to keep checking. It feels like it's been 2019 for three years and those three years have been compressed into six months. I feel like I got lost in the woods so I started focusing on getting out of the woods, instead of enjoying a nice walk. I think that I'm weary, now, from all the anxious trail blazing.
Before there can be recharge, there needs to be discharge. Empty out the contaminated energy, the parts that no longer serve, all used up.
Now, I go back to life, empty. How will I recharge? Will I let life scrape my dregs? What will I put in? How will I get what I need to have something to give where I'm needed?
What will I let in, from here, in this fragile time?