deeples

October 14, 2008

The one where I tell off Robert Frost & Yoda for being all preachy.

Filed under: Life — Tags: , , , , , — denise @ 8:19 am

How can so many of us be “on the brink” at the same time?

Doesn’t it seem like that tiny, fragile place between what we resigned ourselves to being and what we actually could be is about to hit maximum capacity?

It’s like… I don’t even look people in the eye anymore, I look at that little shiny wisp of space above their heads where their possibility and promise lives…. because something is in the air, you dig?

I’ve lived for years in The Stable.  A mostly happy, reasonably calm, fairly dependable life … and now?

BRINK.

I honestly could not tell you what my life will be a year from now.  I know it won’t be what it is today.

I know that unequivocally…

…and I say it with shameless fear and a helpless smile that turns the corners of my lips, despite that fear.

So many friends and people dear to me, family, bloggers, people I love… all about to make massive changes in their lives.

Ready to leap, or fall.

About to give it all up or finally take it all. Or both.

Walking a teeny, grey line between deserved success or crushing failure…

Being the person they always said they wouldn’t be!  Being the person they should have been all along!

Or maybe even saying, “Fuck you, Yoda.  I’m going to TRY.”

Because trying is what I gots in my pocket right now…  or maybe…

It’s accepting.

Accepting that you are on your path… a good path… a smart path… and it doesn’t have to be the road less traveled. So, fuck you, too, Frost.  Maybe it just has to be the path that works for you and the people that you love in this world.

I’m on the brink.  You are on the brink.

We are the delicate pink in the sky just before the sun rises.

We are the rattle of the kettle just before the whistle blows.

We are the wet, electric smell in the air before even a single raindrop falls.

And me, I am going to jut out my chin and square my shoulders and crook my finger in a “come here” gesture and I will chant through my teeth, “Bring it. Bring it. Bring it.”

I might cry a little, too… but no one will notice, least of all me.

I’m too busy rising… and boiling… and showering the world.

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