Agent Provocateur
A way of being...
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To heal ones self, we must poke and prod... and stir...
It’s not comfortable… we will shed many tears and much skin … and, there is always more… endless.
I have been hiking lately, a walking silent meditation… I’ve been wandering near my childhood home… as I sit perched from far enough away—to look and remember… even though our little 3-room cabin is no longer there and a bigger house has taken its place—I imagine the winter icicles that almost touched the ground…
I see the overgrown trail to the beach… the blackberry bushes—my mind changes to summer… I envision my tiny self running up the hill from the beach…