Today I saw my face for the reality it was. Creased, and lined, and peeling around the edges like a Victorian lady whose paint had faded long ago. What had I become? Not a shadow, not an echo but a luminous crack in the facade. Now I am free to live wildly. Without worry. I can set my baggage down by the river’s edge and cross lighter, more permeable, than in my youth. This is what it means to get older. The soles of my feet lift from the ground. Only the toes remain touching. I will walk this way until I reach the next crossing, beyond the mountainous stretch of life that still lies ahead. Then I will float.
beautiful! thank you for that!