On the Edges of Space and Time

The outskirts. The borderlands. The hedge. Jumping over the broomstick. The threshold. Betwixt and between. Crossroads. Turning point. Tipping point. Diverging roads. Blasting off. Journeying. Caves. Initiations. All of these places of power.

Yes there is power, a sudden wildness coursing through her veins. The traveler packs her solitary knapsack, slinks it over her back, and is off again. Unlike tripping through the throes of past addiction or neurology in sudden reverse, she chooses this time of leaving. The open road and the train tracks lay before her. The subtle recognition of the unfamiliar. She leaves once again to collect pieces of her soul from places she had never been before.

The bags are not packed. The tickets yet unbought. And yet she can taste it. She Knows that she will be leaving once again. Not where or how yet. The traveling nourishes her spirit.

sapphoq healing t.b.i.

Three Out of Four

I was on the table-- or more accurately, in the bed-- waiting to be put out so the gut doc could peer inside my colon with her fancy camera. I had been in that place just last week and the same gut doc had yanked a polyp out of my stomach. The blond athletic nurse leaning over me this time with a huge needle she intended to jab into one of my contrary jumpy veins began to talk.

"I don't get why people can't work," she said.
"They stay home and get big and fat and lazy," she said.
"It takes work for me to be in this shape," she said. "I work out six days a week at [a local expensive gym]," she said.
"And some people get handicapped parking permits and I see them springing out of their cars," she said.

"I don't have a handicapped parking permit," I said.

sapphoq healing tbi

Chatter

I am spent and weary with the requirements of a world which I no longer understand.

*sapphoq in need of healing