I will admit, I was a bit leery of coming back to the Bay, even for just the single day I had scheduled in the midst of my continuing roadtrip. Surprisingly though, the undefinable funk I’ve been unable to figure or even feel my way out of the last two weeks has amazingly dissipated, practically overnight.

I feel excited about all the possibilities again. Those incomplete tasks that have been hanging over my head since last month now look like alluringly ripe fruit to be plucked and eaten pleasurably. Whatever clogged the words from coming has also melted away and I can feel the flow funneling back into my head in a delicious stream.

Dangerous still to be here; to skirt the sucking hole of head bent over phone, blinders on to the world; to treat the beggars as invisible ghosts; to deafen my ears and numb my heart to the overwhelming press of people and emotions and things and doings; to deaden the reacting flicker of humanity in response to passerby and bury myself in the judgement of all around; to lose my focus in all the looming distractions and let the sea of possibilities sweep me away. Dangers aplenty.

Maybe it is merely the comfort and lure of the familiar. Maybe it is just the turning of time beyond my ability to measure, or the unlocking of some geographical code in reverse, but I find I have returned to the winged fire of myself’s own Sun and I can feel it shining again.

Life is such a strange and terribly confusing and wonderfully delightful adventure. All the time.