I feel like I am staring at some strange liminal intersection.
Which feels impossible to describe because how can something feel liminal and also as concrete as an intersection.
Four roads, each in its respective direction.
Past behind me, future in front.
But what are these strange options to go left or right?
If my past is behind me, then certainly my future must be in front of me, but why does the future look so cloudy if so certain?
Why does forward lead exactly where forward goes, but lacking that certain luster that a life should have?
Are left and right red herrings? Should I simply trust that forward takes me where I want to go, if I know where I want to go?
Or are left and right invitations to take the scenic route to the exact same destination? Reaping new experiences as rewards for my creative trust, but with more steps to earn.
I could think myself into a tizzy with this one if I let myself.
So instead, I’m going to lie in the patch of grass off to the side and watch the clouds go by.
In a little while, I’m certain that when I allow the noise to quiet, the thinking to subside, I’ll stand up, close my eyes, spin around in circles until I’m just on the edge of tumble, point my finger, open my eyes, and walk the road ahead to see what wonder is there waiting.