I can feel spring approaching.
At night the air has less chill on it.
Yesterday the sun broke through the rain and gave me some of that spring hope I get.
The air is stirring.
When it really gets going the wind in spring can be very disconcerting.
This is when I want to remember my kind anchors. My friends, my practice, my early to beds, my moving and writing and singing and piano playing.
Because without these anchors I am at risk of being blown off the shore, adrift at sea without any sense of where I am heading.
With these anchors, the wind is just the wind, nothing special, just the wind.
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Know someone who would appreciate this letter?
I'd love you to share it with them.
Also, I’m performing a reading of selected Dear Self letters in the Melbourne Fringe Festival. Dear Self – Friendship. September 16th/23rd/30th (click the link, click the link...)