I used to view my life in beginnings & endings.
Treating it like a haircut, radical and impulsively cutting things off when I no longer needed them. When I craved a fresh start. Now at the end of a big writing project, a project that I never even fully anticipated until it enfolded slowly in front of me over the last five years: the things-trilogy is finished.
And now I see that nothing ever truly ends or begins. That most of it, this life, is simply the middle. Is just us progressing, moving forward as best as we can.
That even if I say, here is the end, I know that the next text, the next sentence, the next word is a continuum of what was before. That while I was writing Things That Are Different Now other stories already emerged: nothing ever really stops.
This spring I learned to weave, I learned about the Mayan weaving Goddess Ixchel and how she is governing the moon, a symbol of constant change; I learned about patience and time dissolving while you’re working away on a loom.
It’s …