Saturday, January 11, 2014

the break

I write my feelings out less and less. Lately I've noticed this. It isn't lack for feeling--believe me, I'm full as a feasting tick. Things are different.



There is a break in my lifeline. I've been a bit fascinated with this since junior high, when I picked up a palm reading book at some random place in Florida. I wanted to figure out who I was, and thought the natural markings of my own body would surely clue me in. The cracked line was my first concern. Palm reading materials define it a few ways--sign of significant change, upheaval, movement or illness, accident. There is also the matter of the state of line itself--how is its terrain? Is it chained, bumpy, smooth? My line is turbulent--linked and scribbled--before the break. After the break the line deepens and it's the straightest one on that hand.

Right now I feel like I'm living that leap--that pause of route drawn. I am mid-shift, off the vault and in the air.

And I'm still not saying my feelings.

I'm eager for challenges. I want the different. I've been restless and spinning in place for what seems like years. Now my wheels are hungry; their teeth want to sink and gain ground. I feel a new sort of fear--the fear of what will happen, the one that influences stagnant nature and apprehension, is gone. The new fear is one that accompanies movement. Transition. It is electric excitement. With it comes tough work but I want it. I've left the gnawed cliff, both feet up on the hiccup of skin, break in line.

I'm so excited for life on the other side.

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