I am the glass that must be melted completely before it can be reformed in the shape of its future. I am the iron repeatedly heated and beaten into the shape of its becoming. I am the stew that must boil, simmer and suck into the flavours of the bouquet garni before its succulence is ready to nourish.
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.
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.