But a sense of all those things
This Just Going, my style of keeping at it, it can be unnerving to some. My Dad was always after me to finish things, have a plan. At least when I was just starting out...because even as I look back it is hard for me to even remember what my reasons were for most things. Just that there was no Rhyme or Reason or Particular Order to me.
Yet, a sense of direction always remained. And direction becomes circular. And I become smaller. After a life is lived long enough.
Perhaps, in terms of composition, this is my beginning to get the figure, the beast self, to be less important. And just part of something bigger. Maybe even encouraged by the breaking of the blue glass a few posts back. A freeing and a letting go.
So let me speak, before I go outside to meet this glorious day. Tomorrow, today will be yesterday here. mysterycircle