Monday, August 24, 2015

fresh in heart.

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It's about this time every month I get itchy. By the time the twenty-fifth rolls around, the month feels stuffy and closed off like the windows need to be thrown open and some fresh air let in. I sit in the warm stuffiness for a few days and wait. But then around the twenty-seventh the sitting becomes full of frantic energy and I start to pace around craving a new month.

I see the mid-twenties number and I spend the next few days waiting, being annoyed the way the days seem to tick by so slowly. I wish away this month and the way it's not picking up on my brush-off techniques. I'm  bored with its content and ready for the newness that the first promises.

I know I'm wasting the closing of the month wishing for the next one. But I've convinced myself the best time to start is always later, when the slate is clean, the page perfect. I'm positive if I fill my days with plans and promises for tomorrow time will pass faster.

But alas, this isn't how time and life works.

It ticks the same as always, carefully rounding the face of our clocks, the sun spinning gently around the planets' orbits. My soul not bearing any difference on the laws of time and space. The impossibility of changing the universe leaves me with only one choice.

Change my heart. 

So, I'm practicing what it means to start now and here. I'm teaching myself I can begin new at 2:51 PM or on Wednesday. I'm remembering a direction change is allowed in each and every moment, not just reserved for those perfect beginnings.

A turn of the page, in it's crisp freshness, is about choice, not

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