So I hit the wall.  Time screams in hilarity at my efforts to do.  Codependency rubs it’s hands together, relishing how I believe I have to do everything for everybody.  Anxiety thrills to the hard tight aching muscles.  And my masseuse is delighted that it will take her months to manage the concrete in my back.

Now I’ve hit the wall before in life, I’m old enough to recognize the splattering blood from my weakened stunned body.  Brushing away the sweat and grime from my eyes takes time so that I can see the path turning–sharply–in front of me.  Time to make a choice.

When I finally, tentatively, weeping, step onto a new path, the forest seems lighter, and I hear the birds twitter at my humanness.  The stream giggles at my resistance to just going with the flow.

There are still strange roots and rocks along the Way, but I am moving very slowly.  I am bruised from running nowhere.  I am watching for soft ground and I will sit and sit and sit.