Five whole years later and I find myself drawn back to my little blog refuge. I'm shocked at how much I can see a change in myself while revisiting these pieces of writing. I was a different girl then, struggling so much to feel comfortable in her own skin, to make sense of the conflicting values and morals that I was force fed on a religious patriarchal silver platter and my own that undeniably were developing, but nonetheless extremely impassioned by. But maybe, more likely, I'm just jealous of that old perception of myself and feel a certain level of complacency which has always been my single most largest fear. Little did I know how long and difficult that journey was/is still going to be. Coming back, I realized how much I retreat into the cathartic prose of streaming thoughts whenever I'm struggling in life. Not much has changed there, who am I kidding though, not much changes anywhere.. old struggles just morph into new struggles, they just get smarter at disguising themselves and you get tired of caring so much. Hense, "enlightenment." I have a much more cynical view of the New Age "Spiritual Movement" now a days, but contradictorily am still very much apart of.. writing about it should be interesting. Maybe I've just grown the "adult baggage" that loses its brilliance in the eyes of life.. that we all hear growing up and think "nah, couldn't happen to me.." Maybe I'm just scared of growing up.. Maybe I will find all these answers here.
Although this blog indeed exists in the cloud, floating with trillions of other bits of information, somehow I feel like it has always rested somewhere outside of the www, nestled deep into a crevice of the universe that only I have access to. This is my nook and cranny in space, my ethereal nest in the gemini constellation, it's my alternate reality cabin in the woods. Sprawling snow covered land with a thick aspen forest just on the edge of the river. No phone signal, no neighbors within a 20 mile radius, a 1980's Ford F150, wrap around deck, and winter boots for truggin'. A knitted pair of thigh high socks, herbal tea steaming up my face, a large comfy grandpa chair atop a sprawling wool rug, a wood burning stove leaving small vignettes of frost on the windows and a pen and paper and my thoughts... Of course the dream is never complete without my solking, but he's lost in another dimension at this moment in nontime. Nonetheless, I'm so happy to be back, I already feel better.. more rooted in my being.
Oh, and I'm also 30.. Goood LOrd thats a lot of years. I hope I am worthy.
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