Rising and falling like breath

“What is built up, what is torn down, what remains,” I say to describe what interests me the most in my work. Patina. In the immediate, on the surface and in ourselves. Save that there is no work. I am not writing and these are the few photos taken with my new camera which was bought with such hope in my wings. I am too tired from my day job to create. I cannot find the words, as much as I would like to, and that makes me very nervous. Pacing-like. Save that life is not always simple, there is light always too amidst the shadows that ache, and so I can throw like a flare against the sky, four words:

I have met someone.

Yes. I know you are happy for me. I can feel some of you clapping your hands, or raising them to your lips in little prayer, an automatic gesture. And even in the knowing of that, I am blessed.

Because here is the thing. Even when love comes calling…in all its beauty beyond divine…I now know that my own well-being is up to me. I cannot only be alive within another’s arms, even if I feel the comfort with a recognition that makes me cry. He is. And he is beautiful.  But it is for me to find my way forward. With him, without him. Or together. On we go, with what we build up, what we tear down, what remains. It is so complex and yet so simple. Rising and falling like a breath.