There's Something About January

I don’t know exactly what it is, but I find I’ve been tearing into things and, most importantly, completing them. Is it the excitement of a new year with anything possible? Is it all the snow and cold outside and the quilts, cat, books, laptop and fireside indoors? I don’t know and I don't think I shouldn’t examine the reason too closely, but go with whatever magic is working.

Maybe, just maybe, I’m becoming that which I most want to be. Maybe I’m becoming fearless.

I’ve noticed I laugh more at the little voice that tells me what I’m attempting to do in a writing a story is beyond me. When I hear that voice, I think, okay, then, I’ll just have to leap farther than I thought, throw myself in and see if I plummet or fly and if I plummet, it’s all right because next time I’ll have that experience on which to draw.

So January comes with a warning. If you hang around me, you’re with someone standing a lot closer to the edge than I ever used to stand. And I’m ready to jump.