"Closing Cycles"

I found a corner in a secret garden that felt a million miles away from home, but wasn't. I kept the quiet company of ink and quill and coffee and freshly tattered pages just begging to be infused with thought. The colored glass pebbles beneath my feet giggled as I gently disturbed them. The breeze stroked the notes that were caged in the chimes delicately dangling in the branches overhead. Content came to join me and I marveled at the reflection. At one point, I felt an all too familiar sense of spinning, so I reached out to grab ahold of the cycle reins but they singed my grasp and the memories burned; Palms down and blistered, I released the rein. "Closing cycles" can throw difficulties into the fire and cause it to rage in its confinement ring. Resistance can drag the edges brutally across the jagged opposition, but in the end, a smoothness results if you take notice. Letting go, moving on, picking up, cleaning house... their birth can all be such cliches that maniacally slap me across the face every time I turn to look over my shoulder. Maybe I look like I need a little color in my cheeks since the sun has been on vacation for awhile! Or maybe I'm just stubborn! I drew a circle on a page and decided to let the edge of the circle (and then several overlapping) leave their cyclic insanity tangled and knotted in all it's glory without having to understand how or why or when it all intertwined. I resisted the cyclone of panicky control over my ideas and thoughts and chose to release them to Possibility.... then she simply flew off with them. I watched as the ink bled through the fibers of the page in front of me, and then I heard it! That whispered moment that said gently but passionately, to turn the page! And so I did ...