It’s bloody hot, it’s mostly uncomfortable and it’s most certainly my path. Once I am shaped I will emerge from this fire. I will be changed – still glass or iron or food – but transformed into the shape that will be my carriage through the next phase of my life.
On another note: It’s officially a midlife crisis when you have a CD of poetry in your car and find yourself occasional nodding in agreement at red robots. For those of you interested in claiming the poetry of a midlife moment, I highly recommend David Whyte’s works.
I am currently listening to Midlife and the Great Unknown. It's a miraculous and compassionate investigation of how lost and found we are in midlife.