A week or so ago i said, Out Loud, …… "I am tired of cloth".
I said it. Felt myself saying it, let myself be surprised to be saying it.
I'm thinking about that in the light of this:
"To inhabit silence in our aloneness is to stop telling the story altogether. To begin with, aloneness always leads to rawness and vulnerability, to a fearful simplicity, to not recognizing and to not knowing, to the wish to find company other than that not knowing, unknown self, looking back at us in the silent mirror." David Whyte
Maybe what I was wanting to say was really, that the story i have of myself no longer works.
But that's hard to understand. So i said, I am tired of cloth.
Maybe I am tired of pushing the old story around and into a New time that has no story yet?
I need to keep in mind that this Spring is like no other, ever before. I'm in the same body, this land is the same Place. But otherwise, everything is different.
I have chosen it to be this way. I have waited for it to be this way. But, I don't know it
because it hasn't happened yet.
windthread 
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