Culmination.

I've spent the last week letting go of everything I know to be comfortable. I can feel it slipping from me and no matter how far I strain my neck to see what is behind me, I cannot turn around. There is a wall being built between then and now and I am on the other side of it with no idea of what lies ahead of me and nothing to keep me going that way but a sense that I must. That's how I describe my most recent actions. I am driven by a deep knowing that sits inside me and guides me, despite my protest. Consciously, I hate what I'm doing. I hate that I'm leaving the past three years of my life behind me and moving on to something I can't define. I hate the panic that ensues when I think about what's really happening to me. Did I honestly make this decision? What has come over me?

I remember Elizabeth Gilbert saying that at least once in your life, you will do something or make something that is not yours, and you will come out of it wondering who took the wheel, because it certainly wasn't you. That's how I feel. I feel like I'm along for the ride, and my soul is a reckless driver. I'm gripping the "oh shit handles" and screaming like hell in protest, but I can't get out of the car. I have to go. The horizon is visible, though I don't know what's on it. I think that's the most terrifying part of it all...the not knowing.

Yesterday I drove out to Lake Monroe just to sit on the water's edge and listen. I was so close to nature and I felt it wrap me up and rock me like a mother does her child. I sat and I watched the moon rise over the lake as the birds soared above me. I could hear the feathers of their wings rustle as they flew, their calls echoed across the rippling water.

I was so at peace, I was afraid to leave.

But I did. I went to Bloomingfoods and picked up fresh groceries - pasta and tomatoes and fresh basil and garlic. Some bread and brie. Coffee and strawberries for the morning.
I came home and cleaned the house with the windows and both doors open and the music on. It was about 65 degrees and I felt fantastic.

But the pasta still sits in the pan, unwrapped and waiting. The fresh basil has wilted. The bread is stale. I settled for toaster waffles. And now I'm drinking cheap wine and avoiding my homework.