Transition

Today, in a small line up at Jordan River. Small waves, few people. The sun bore down befitting el niño. Hot enough in a wetsuit to slide off the back of my board and dunk my head in the ocean. Waves trickled in, long boarders hooted, creedleing into the sun’s glare. A prone ride for good measure. You could almost hear the tap squeaking closed or the juicer pulling the organized energy out the of the ocean. At 11:30 I was stripping out of my suit when a stiff East wind shattered the late morning glass.

An evening before spent further stripping my life of objects deeply implanted with memories I can no longer afford to hold onto but am not sure I’m strong enough to do without.

Then a date. a potential portal to new external.

Then a run through a dark forest through chirping frogs through cracked wrist and no shirt. Steamy heat in dark winter woods. Feeling stronger quads building to hot desert summer runs and quiescent ocean. It’s time for the change, for earths tilt to find a new solar aspect. To begin to write over the warped tape-memory of 2015 with some new strength. For the sounds of the season to earn new meaning or reassume their old.

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