By tikatarot on Skatehive
I stay awake, as the real loss is not always wrong but a reason for numbness, not always the misstep but the way to an intended quieter openings moving, I stay awake, this kind of attention is costly because it asks me to release my way into aliveness, when often the vivid thing arrives sideways, I stay awake, I know how quickly I can become fixed when I am scared, choosing control over discovery, and then wondering why the work suddenly feels dead in my hands, I stay awake, can I remain available even when the moment refuses to follow my own life’s outline, I stay awake, because the rarest gifts rarely knock twice when I’m busy arguing with the shape I imagined they should have taken… I encounter grief at every turn, every genuine transformation compels me to release some cherished image of how I was becoming and what I was supposed to appear like, I encounter grief at every turn, a part of me always drags its feet because letting go of the first picture feels like betrayal, even when