Starting Fresh

  The sky has rained itself all out by the time you open your eyes and wake up to this day, not exactly sunny, but not as bleak as you had expected it to be either.

   You open your eyes on this morning, and you can almost hear the  >click<  as six zeros roll up, all in a row there again, and you feel that stir of excitement, again.  You made it back to the start. Again.

  The last two months the result of some 'letting go',  which was the result of several months of 'trying hard', and you did in fact try hard.   You had made progress, and eventually found yourself clinging desperately to some dry and rocky unknown height, much higher in fact than you had thought you would be able to claw your way up.   You made it so high, and so near the top even, that you were reluctant to let go.   You had even managed a peek over the top, to flat ground, and what you saw was not the promised land you had expected or hoped to see, not at all.   Again.   But you still hoped a little bit that you were wrong.  With even just this tiny decrease in enthusiasm however,  you felt your fingers slipping, toes scrabbling against the sandy wall ineffectively, and with a deep breath of resignation, you let go.

   Confused as the world spun, top to bottom, air rushing by, not knowing what would happen next.  The equivalent of an explosion, or a birth, or a battle with something ferocious with your bare hands, it all happened fast for a while, and then you felt your wind knocked out of you, again, laying on your back someplace in the dark and dank.   Then things began to happen slowly to you.

   Wanting to remain alone, wanting to think about something else,  time crawled, in bed most of the day for a month or more,  trying to think of some new way out, but crawling back the old familiar way, following the old script, seemingly unable to learn any new tricks.   And then one day, the rain.  Again.

   It had been weeks and weeks and weeks, and you DID learn a few new things, finally, you found new distractions, and new manners of creativity to occupy your mind, and you began to notice that you were feeling better, without asking yourself constantly, it was a surprise, and even this small detail made you happy, and you began to realize you knew just what would have to be done, and what pieces would have to be left behind, and which ones were good for you, and you would make a new little matrix of your assorted aggregates, and you could imagine how they were falling into place, where they would go or not go, and you realized you were ready as it rained hard for two days straight,  and you listened to those sounds on the roof above your head as you painted and wrote, and lay there in bed before going to sleep, the roof closer than ever to your face at that time, and the sound of the rain was so soothing to you,  reminding you of some time from long ago, when you thought everything was going to be okay, and you were safe in your bed listening to that sound whisper you to sleep.    The rain that voice in your ear telling you it is alright, telling you to go to sleep,  and when you wake up this will be a new clean place, and you will be fine.