Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about taproots. Beautiful, knotted messes we keep stowed in crevices, buried deep down under, hidden from the slightest exposure to rays of light. Tucked for safekeeping under layer upon layer of silted sands, bedrock and igneous stone. A mishmash of idiosyncrasies, insecurities, shame, fear, wonder, bliss, jealousy, self hatred, and hopefully, a mainline of love.
These roots were upturned by a one-hundred year flood. Exposed to the elements - water, sun, sky - they looked free to me.
A beautiful tangled mess.
"It always seems impossible until its done."
Please remember this: the view could always be worse.
Q: What is your five year plan?
A: To do this.
Happy Black Friday.
“I just believe in me.” -John Lennon
Clouds mirroring mountains, winking to me in the magic morning lamplight of the sunrise. Thank you.
Surbubia at your fingertips.
"I lift my head from the pillow
I see the frost moon
Lowering my head I think of home”