I have been playing cat and mouse with my nine lives. But all the while choking my voice with the tasks and cares and obligations that are supposedly the adventure of life. But too long imbalanced. Too long the creeping misjudgement that eventually steals the engagement of a core part of Self. Stealing my voice; my words, my stories. My dancing friends that weave light into character and plots; into learning and laughter; into worlds and thoughts outside of the mundane prescribed by the Other and the broken and the blind.
NaNoWrimo. Like a friend of a friend I had heard good things of and wanted to meet. I peered behind a curtain and we shook hands.
Like a generous, coaxing spout pouring out nourishment to empower the whispers of promise. I am prodded and pushed along my once-loved path lean into the light once again, in fluid movement, to bear things that bloom, refresh and excite. To ride in the slip stream of fellow crafters and dreamers on same journey.
I am let loose to paint lilies of every colour I choose and build castles that melt into green blue flows when a hero needs a new escape plan or a refreshing dip in the deep. I am let loose to be more me again.
So early in the journey, but so glad it has started. See you on the other side…