I’d like to have it tied to the trunk as something I happen to gaze at in my rear view mirror while I extend the middle finger as desired.
Fear and getting over it.
Well, sort of.
Coughing up lungs, slaying dragons, riding the jellies and crashing into trees
Little demons scurrying in the brush, scrambling up nearby trees to hiss & gnash at me from the branches and between frozen blades of grass. My mind gives up, my feet fall off the pedals. I listen as my 5tens scratch the dirt. I hear the voices cackling from all around me as they feel me struggle as the mental game begins.
On being hit by a semi truck
Vulnerability & the act of putting oneself “out there.”
This is what I am doing now. I’m committing to the unknown and preparing for the onslaught of challenges in “becoming.”