The kindest anchors

My kind anchors. Drawing Luke Hockley.

My kind anchors. Drawing Luke Hockley.

Dear Self,

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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