Journeys...

Thursday is the 2 year anniversary of being in this little house in the bushes.
The only home my furkids have known over these last 2 years alone with me.

Busy packing up boxes, but no time, date or destination waiting for me. This journey continues.

I had the best of hopes for 2014, and despite all that happened, never once did I ever dread its existence and space.
I still don't.
I still look up and wish and hope for a 2015 that will action all 2014 *felt* like.

Family and friends have been "lost" this year...
Jobs have disintegrated.
Jobs have eluded.
Masks have been removed.

And we're still here... writing, reading, learning, living.
Still waiting for that cliff edge to come into view so that we can take that jump... no hesitation.

There is no knowing what others are going through, no true understanding, no matter how hard we may try. There is this infinite space that looms between all beings. Even those of the same species. The same kind.
But I know what this year has been for me. As selfish as we think we sound, we can only know what we've gotten out of our existence.
The end of the rope reach me Sunday and I let go... maybe for good... or maybe until I find the next one. Like an emotional/mental Tarzan. Waiting for that swing through the branches.
And all I can truly hope for is that the next rope isn't another snake.

"If it hurts, then you're alive, it means something's there..." - Dead Letter Circus.