Busy. Love it. Read this.

I've been getting into a routine of going out to my coach-friend's barn twice a week. I clean her barn, then I get a lesson. It's awesome. It makes me feel more alive.

My truck runs great. My back is feeling okay as long as I exercise. I haven't had a major panic problem in...let's not count it up, let's just say a while.

I've been reading like mad and accidentally started writing a new novel.

So I've been busy and other than a lingering cold and a sinus infection that makes my head feel like it's full of cement...I'm making progress.

Here's a picture of my beautiful red horse. I wish he hadn't up and croaked on me last year.

I have totally accepted that he's gone, but I really hate this horseless time in my life.

And what the heck, here's a confusing bit of words for you.

_________________________________

Identity

I am a woman who has come home with her dog after taking the kids to the bus stop. I live in a town that is much bigger than it pretends to be. I sit at a desk with paper and pen and an ancient cat. I am about to kiss my husband before he leaves for work.

I’m here but I’m not. I’m a tiny sliver of foggy grey sky. I am too big for this pretending town. I’m the worn down run down fence following the road. I’m the stubborn blade of last year’s grass poking out of the snow. If I spread my wings I can sense the red tailed hawk swooping down on me. Stretch my long legs and let the air rush into my lungs I run, hooves pounding the earth.

But I’m the earth too and I lie here having this silent conversation with the sky.

I am warm and I am cold. I’m all the wild things that suffer while humans live in comfort. I’m the impervious oblivious tree while humans love in chaos and tension.

I’m a seed waiting patiently to turn into a bloom. I’m a brown leaf allowing the seasons to take me back to the soil I came from.

I’m rain and cloud and mist. I’m the rock that the road you travel on was carved out of. I’m the rock you could be shattered on. I’m the sun that warms you and the heat that saps you and the light that burns you. I’m the rain that cools you and the fall of tears that stops you.
When I pause to take a breath I know who I am. Who else will recognize me?

I am a woman whose sleep is disturbed by dreams of horses escaping their pastures. I sit a a desk. The bony cat demands attention. The man I love has to leave me for the day. I will kiss him with warm lips and spindly arms. I am love. I am fear. I am sitting in the silence with a pen in my hands.

_________________________________________________