If worry is a foe to rest, I will declare I need my rest & do without the worry. Still, the 2 a.m. cuppa is good, the tiny fan alongside hums to me gently in the harsh Florida humidity.

I walk along the river of concern gingerly, testing it to measure as I level up my faith. I know second sleep will bring consent & capability. I worry about a future so dim in daily mists as to be ephemeral, I am a year away from making decisions. The world today does not lend well to a year off…days can be like small, potent pills, thoughts carry flood, famine, fear, madness.

I worry about others’ displeasure with me: I can be wrong, forgetful, careless & the list extends beyond my vocabulary. Yet I am also the right action to dispel all of these & surface above this ocean – a bright creature breathing grace before plunging once more below.

I know one day I will fly – continuing this upward momentum of escape potential – all of this as well as the essence (not askance) of my divinity. God has promised me governance over my life & my nature & none may gainsay me.

I celebrate my mastery! My momentum lifts everyone around. I am only encapsulated in a belief, not within this reality any longer. I can & indeed have already, overcome all except the bald physicality of it. Life can be many things to many selves. It’s a minefield to walk, a city to lay waste, a planet to heal. It’s a choice most of all, one which triumphs & trumpets in sheer overcoming. Life holds me like deep salt water, head upright. It possesses a gravity my physical self knows all about & conforms within.

I begged, bargained & borrowed to get where I am today with full knowledge I’d be somewhere else tomorrow. I pushed every button, moved every piece on the game board before deciding on this story: I seem to be still to it, except for when I do not, am not.

It happens that life is not a fixed star, an immovable object, a pain-filled parallel to nonphysical being. The reasons are still mostly hidden, yet I feel them surfacing slowy from depths just discovered & needing to be plumbed. Why am I here? How many times shall I ask that question? Why does dropping that needle in the same groove now play another song? I will find out. I will to know. The metronomic movement repeats in endless arcs until it no longer does: until the lesson learned is realized as unavoidable Truth & can be cast ashore when I’m able to leave the water. Emotion tugs at me like some erratic prankster, lifting a flap to expose iteself, sometimes indecently! Emotional embarrassment is redolent with shame, blame, lack & unfilfillment.

However, Mastery awaits!

Change must follow the, “I cannot take this anymore!” detours. But the change has already taken place on unseen levels & must only be made manifest, bubbling up slowly from the depths. Change displaces what is with what can be. Everything I have ever wanted has turned out to be ephemeral – even houses & husbands. For me, these are carry-on luggage, stowed beneath the thrones where I sit. For me, there’s not much more than to live my life entire.

Regret carries no charge, pays no dividents. Marriages end, houses decay, fortunes spin with fair market value roulette … All things thought stable can be pried loose, lifted on invisible wind & the solid suddenly seems gossamer.

Therefore I declare the solid to be change alone. Illusion gives way quicly to intangible & is without foundation. Rivers disappear to surface elsewwhere. Oceans leave seashells later found in deserts. Stars align & dance simultaneously.

The nature of change itself is erratic, uncontrollable, unmanageable and also not so.

Think about that!