mahiwaga

I should have been doing this all along, all this time. Though I suppose November was not truly barren. I’ve but to send the fruit of my labor out. I have no good reason to procrastinate.

The snow has at last fallen, the earth a blank slate of white.

Snow obliterates the tangled growth of the year past, buries everything. It is time to start anew, to make an accounting of my soul. To articulate this aching longing in my soul.

Is it something more than my genetic imperative? Or is it merely my hormones shouting at me?

There is a barrier I need to break through, some critical point within my self wherein I might discover my path. I had fooled myself into thinking I might read the signs somehow, even though all this time the answers had been inside me waiting to get free. And still I cannot unlock them. My mind is distracted.

As I was saying, I keep waking up (or dreaming) that there is something I need to do. Not the horrible dread of knowing something should be happening, but the feeling of being here:

…and not having enough energy to push myself to the threshold.