For months, I've been thinking about Grace's musings about "coming into one's own." One's own what?
Sorry to say that after months of rigorous intellectual questions, the answer looks something like this.
My "own" was a silhouette of me...fully formed but not at all clear to me. And always just out of reach.
And then, as I ticked toward 60, the frenzy seemed to die down almost biologically. It settled into a slow, persistent inner rumbling instead of mad chaos directed outward. And the rumbling had a strong magnetic pull. First, it took me into the kindler, gentler stitching world of Spirit Cloth...which lead me to discover all of you. And that took me back into creating, back into my garden, back into my faith.
Back into deep and trusting relationships with a few trusted friends, one beloved man, and various boxer duos.