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Disillusionment. Floating aimlessly, the only direction is when I’m teaching. Other than that, outside of my passion for my work, I am only partially a being. “I don’t know,” is the only answer I’m comfortable giving to almost every question I get. I keep waiting for a sign, a reason, for being. And nothing ever comes. Will I die, still waiting? Is life sometimes a thing that never gets figured out?
The mountains are green with growth, vitality, hope, and light. I sit in this café, as in so many others, alone. Whether there are people around or not. Flags of belonging wave in the wind, reminding the souls who don’t question, not to worry, they’re a part of something. How many flags will it take to convince me?
September 2024