Four years ago, when the cherry blossoms were in full bloom and life was hard for various reasons, I started to write it all down.
“The idea of rebirth, the power to choose again, to let go of the past and transform yourself into something new and different gives me solace these days. To give into the natural rhythm of life, shedding our skins when we’ve outgrown them.”
I wrote then, not knowing how many times I would come back to this theme. How many times I would circle back and find myself in a similar place, slightly removed by one or two inches. I guess this is important to note: I am terrible at assessing the present. I am worse at acknowledging the past.
So I scroll back into the archive, scanning through older essays, all these sentences on a string, the web I wove is intricate and chaotic, yet a pattern is emerging. Pulling them apart, picking at pieces – the collected Muse Letters – I am weaving them anew.
Part one | Excerpts from the Mus…