The journey to ‘Here’ #3

Ibiza – 6pm – night warmed … hug warmed … and a circle of women that talked about what we wanted from the week.

I wanted to crack – or rather, to be cracked – split – to somehow break … my spirit was tight; emotions held, fingertips gripping the side of a building …

My brain felt dulled, flat. J’étais dégonflée comme un vieux ballon … the ‘grey’ had become a part of me …

Anything beyond the every day felt like it was birthed through wet cement.

So I wanted to be split, because that was the way that I changed. Change needed to be blunt, brusque; it needed to be irreversible or at least have a finality about it.

I have always been slightly suspicious of anything  gentle. I preferred hard training, hard massage, clear messaging; all or nothing; black or white; either or

It needed to crack.

I thought that it needed to crack.

Turns out – change can be accomplished more gently.

 

The Journey to ‘Here’

I feel slightly fraudulent …

… because I don’t feel as ‘pushed’ as I was a year ago; and not even a quarter of that ‘swallowed-whole’ feeling of 12 years ago.

I remember both … but at a distance.

So – can I write about my current ‘location’ now? When a previous one has been so much more ‘reader-worthy’?

… while I’m not back in the suffocating world of self-imposed and self-regulated expectations with self-rated outcomes (generally ‘not-quite-enough’), my current space is not not in the same general vicinity.

I have landed back at a cross-roads where I can hesitate a little longer or plough headlong down the unknown path … which has the allure that only the unknown can have … until it becomes known.

But can I truly write about something so mundane? Can I be a writer of ‘non-critical life-assessment’?

Pfft … why not … let’s see what happens …

May as well jump and splash for a while – just to see …