Lately, faces have become familiarly iconic – as much as logos once were. Wasn’t it fascinating to see the VW logo & think it just so cool.

Our vision has shifted & faces are so much more than emblematic. My face is like that to me – I am accustomed to seeing my face in one arrangement. Of course it changes, but the changes last a very long time usually, due to what I call good genes.

 The differences were not so obvious as they are now. Or not on the level the changes are hitting. My face is changing shape, elongating, really, due to dental work. Years of neglect & unavailable care have rendered my senior teeth every memory of Trident I ever experienced. So, some of the dental care could continue as a after-death experience if real repair were to be enacted but that’s another blog.

I am quite happy not to be missing front teeth like some caricature of an old woman (and actually quite lucky.)

For me, this type of change also involves a change of character – which part I have not figured out yet. What I know is that at times I now whistle a bit due to fewer teeth. I hope to be the only one hearing it. I force out the rest of the sentence & shut up.

This benefits me so much as I now listen.

This is leading overall to a different silence: a voluntary silence. By that I mean not one imposed by retreat or grief when less penetrates. I mean a chosen Silence that keeps my lips shut against the words battering the inside, which usually begin with, “I don’t have time for this!” I know now as soon as my mental ears hear this phrase, they are to send up flares to the cortex to cease & desist immediately or at least ASAP.

I have decided consciously to become a milder, gentler me, this coming from a shift in cosmic frequencies, taking shape on my new face.

I have come to age in an age when time has slipped its clock-bound boundary. While declaring myself ready for the New, I am hiding behind this ephemeral curtain of the past, holding it in front of me, this musty & disused veil. I yearn to sweep it away & grab onto the New chugging through like some petticoated heroine, parasol flying inside out. I don’t think it is a fear; I might think it more nostalgia holding me in place.

It’s a testament to lack of hope & faith, no wonder my charity is sporadic at best. Guess what starts at home? Anybody?

I sure wish you luck & love during your changes. I wish you what your heart will hold, of good cheer in good measure. From me to you for it always returns.