Time Machine


I’m on a bridge. It spans the Here and the There. The Where I have been and the Where I am going. The There, in my mind, soul and heart, has a look and feel that is palpable. Yet I am also open to manifestations of the entire laundry list of supplications-to-the-Universe that apparently I have been compiling — for years and maybe since even before that — that I can’t yet get a feel for. And that’s okay. The bridge is here and I am on it. Crossing over, slowly sometimes, perhaps even too slowly at times for my Impatient Self Who Feels the Future, but crossing. One breath, one heartbeat, one long lingering kiss at a time. Crossing into the What Comes Next.

They say that it is not the destination that is important in our experience but the journey in getting there. If that is the case, and I have no reason yet to believe it is not, then I am going to have a magical crossing indeed.

There was a time when I forced such things. Charged at them like a rhinoceros, squeezing them into being with my Vulcan Mind Meld Superpowers of Creation. Scaring the living daylights out of them, maybe. In my exuberance, my wild abandon, uncreating the very thing I thought I wanted. Ah, irony. This time, the crossing is slower, sweeter. More to savor. More opportunity to check in, reflect, and enjoy. More to expand into. Just … more.

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