I’m an explosion of heart. Tender and soft, especially of late. Quietly contemplating, missing the people I love, whispering a subtle question to the world of nothing around me.
Where am I going, and who am I? So much of me has become new. It is a sure sign that there is no fixed identity, as much as we cling to who we think we are and tell our stories until well beyond their used by date.
I nurse a quiet hope in my heart that, someday, I will have crossed a bridge between not knowing and finally knowing life and its meaning.
Life is a journey, this much I know.
Life is a teacher, of this I am also certain.
This understanding is, in itself, a beautiful thing.
Can I let go fully, though, and allow life to happen effortlessly, and without a care?
I ask the small voice of my heart, and she smiles in response.
I know nothing of what that smile means.
Not yet, anyway.