Me, Undone

I’ve been saying goodbye to lots of things lately. Some not by choice, others out of necessity. I’ve seen you from time to time since. You rush to me with warm smiles and soft arms. Always sad eyes though. Sad eyes as you feed me a lifetime of information in a glance. You ask me if the number is still the same. Yes, I always say. It hasn’t changed. But everything has. We have splintered indeed. Our lives indefinitely forked. You keep your distance… How foolish of me to believe our connection existentially transcendent. It is the same as every other before. Normal. Recycled. How profoundly sad. If I shall pass you in the street, in two months, or two years--catch a familiar scent, sound-- Will my fibers still remember you? You are clairvoyant. You know that dream you had about my death—it has come.

I don’t know where to start… is the beginning or the end? I have exploded into a new world, a new energy, a new place and time. I am eager to peel away my former self. Standing at the edge of certain, ultimate and sudden transformation. I am dying. I turn to the left-- to the right and whisper goodbye… I prepare for flight The task of writing is daunting for there is so much history created in the space of two months. A few entries ago, I wrote of Saturn Return and the shifting sea. The universe has unfolded—aligned just perfectly to place me on a new path. I secured a teaching position at a progressive high school. I am beginning a new life of teaching and learning as an act of freedom—as an act of rebellion—as an act of resistance. I am consciously undoing four years of law school indoctrination to return to myself. I’ve got my mind back and it feels like water on my scalp. I cannot remember the last time that I’ve felt so hopeful about the days and nights ahead. There is this