Wake early again, stretch and yawn and breathe mindfulness into your waking limbs. When we drove through the canyon there was snow on the ground, they send you pictures of apple picking and upstate fall foliage and it's 85 degrees here what are you doing? I check the forecast for California, begin to pack a bag.
I lost my words today, forgive me, I let myself be led astray and I swore I wouldn't, you built this treehouse around my piles of paper and I left the nest too soon, how my wings ache, I knew better. But the fact is my compass knows true north, and it is freedom; the fact is my heart knows its dream and it is this one, the one I see with my eyes open. Everything falls apart and burns to the ground but I have packed my bag and I will not be standing still now. These are the cards I was dealt and I will play them till I die or it dies in me, there is no other way and there never was. Magic runs through my fingertips, it hums in my skin and sings in my spine, I saw the straight and wide path and I turned right off it. Pull a piece of paper out of the envelope:
life is too short to be ordinary.
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