I saw a spider sitting atop my candy skull shaped shell this morning and thought of death. In Indiana and on the foothills here, snow already fell. On the doorstep of winter, there is ice on my bike seat when I head for work at 9 am.
It is going to be long and hard, I feel. This winter a frozen representation of my heart. I whispered this across spaces where others were and heard them echo back. Similar sentiment but with a decay of variation that makes me think — I am not the only one. I am not alone.
I am so excited. To need to brace against the cold. It has felt only inside of me for too long. I need the world , the universe, reality to concur.
This winter might be my concurrence. My return to the outside existence. I may be approaching the extrovert I never meant to leave, but had to set down for a time. The me I couldn’t be.
And with this return, I get to dig up all the buried parts of what made that person whole, delve into the depths of what made that person feel, and decide what I want to keep and what to leave.
So that with spring, I will emerge a new shape.
I know now why leaving Nihon didn’t feel like an emergence. Because it was still a descent. And this long, cold, harsh winter — my shelter, hovel, safety blanket from the freeze. I will shed it when the world’s tilt tells me it’s time.
Not waiting, I am preparing. Shredding my old ways to make new bedding. New pillows to rest my head on.
C’mon winter. Show me what you’ve got.