MOVING

A tribute to T or C where we’re all here mainly cause we’re not all there.

I always give a piece of advice I like to repeat: “Don’t put down your glasses when you’re fixin’ to move.” 

Now, I step within the framework of these words to peer out from inside them. The view assures me I am in a different space, a more variable space. I untie from anchorage, my homemade balloon striped with new experiences, breathes in air element. For a longish time, I have been letting go of Earth, one tie-down at a time.

I have claimed to be a battery. I don’t carry out the work so much as charge it to occur, or to continue, or to simply watch the success happen. The work presents itself with interest & need, & I plug in. I could be a meanie & say T or C owes me, but the truth is I leave it with a greater debt, for so much feels unfinished. Yet it was not mine to begin with since, I can only ‘inneract’ with it all.

Then that tiny voice teases inside my ear saying, “You were here for the boost, kiddo, battery, remember?”

It’s taken years for the Age of Aquarius to wash over me. I brought along a boat & dory first time I left home, now I leave with power-pack made of thank-you notes, the kind I always write.

I’ve dismantled my desk, dismembered my writings, disbanded alliances dependent on geography. T or C is a cauldron; I can only cook so long before looking for another recipe. I’m not being flip about any of it.

But change just tickles the Hell out of me.