Walking the city at night has a magical quality. The color of light, the tiniest sliver of a yellow moon, the ring of footsteps on cobble stones, the shimmer of breath in the night air, so recently thick with the heat of a golden sun. It is the same wherever I go - from small midwestern towns, to Manhattan, to the heart of Mexico, high in the Sierra Madres. There are possibilities illuminated in the darkness that we wouldn’t dare to dream by daylight.
A combination of love and loss stopped my writing over a decade ago and righteous angst resulted in two garbage bags full of shredded journal pages. Now life and technology offer a new direction, where words no longer serve as the balm for fear.
The theme of the last year has been learning to have faith - in myself, in life, in the people I care about, and in the work that I do. I thought I had a pretty good idea about what my life was going to be like, until I became trapped in the comfort of familiarity.
Now, I am collecting myself. In preparation. For something I can't quite see. It shimmers like a mirage, but I feel it ahead of me. In the desert.