- From my sketchbook writings, September 20th, 2010 -
There is something in this that speaks of rebirth, but I've yet to finger the pulse of it.
It's as though through these biweekly treatments I'm allowed to step through nine lives; Each time beginning as some small helpless puddle, growing stronger, brighter, wiser each day until I'm able to reach up and grab the tail of the comet, hold on for that wild ride. The day to day is certainly a gritty struggle, but what is the human experience if not made of grit and sinew? The speed of progression each week speaks volumes of encouragement to my soul - like watching some stop-film documentary that sparks tears in the staunchest disbeliever when the beauty of the full cycled of life is revealed in a bite sized nugget.
This is no foreign magic, no whispered mystery, but an honest viewing of LIFE. There is a moment when the eyes first open to color and light, a moment when the exquisite realization of taste sets in, a moment of discovery when all those awkward angles and limbs move together in perfect harmony, of moment of recognition at the exchange of particles those lungs can move, a moment when the mind releases it's grip, truly awakens and trembles at the sheer blessing of life. And so it is. Dust to dust but the particles glitter.