I am sitting on the mountain looking down into the trees that are waiting for their time to bloom. Spring is piercing through the walls of winter. All is bringing hope to fruition. What will the new life look like? Will it represent the years past or will it be unrecognizably different? The buds are forming their blooming potential.

This unraveling and reknitting may take some time. The process continues to jaunt its way through my heart and mind. Should I expose myself to this emotional torture, or will it give me the freedom that the prisoners in Plato’s cave were in need of. I think that both what is tangible and intangible will reveal truths and progress will be made.