Lately I feel that I've been coming into a new beginning. That probably sounds more optimistic than my posts usually do, but sometimes beginnings require death, and perhaps this last year has been a death for me. It nearly killed me, but not quite. There is something in me, and it tickles and kicks at my core, demands to get out. It makes me wonder if my sense of being "stuck" after the new year was a moment of rejuvenation, a pause to gather energy for the growth to come.
Bulbs sit, seemingly stagnant under earth and snow while life grows, multiplies inside, and still the bloom must crack through the bulb, claw its way out of the very core of its own sustenance, and then crawl, ever so slowly, towards the sun, pushing pounds of dirt away a fraction of a millimeter at at time.
I am beginning to think that I am not the bulb, buried and choked by the earth, rotting in darkness, but the flint of growth, the glimpse of green struggling to unfurl and dig my way to the sun. And I feel its warmth.
