new, old

things are new for me right now.  and it's an old feeling, a long ago feeling.  transitioning from "i basically know how my life is going" to "hey, it's anyone's guess", again.  i'm unpacking boxes in my new house, knowing this house is temporary, too.  I'm unpacking but will be packing again.  i climb into bed alone at night and, if i'm honest, the grief of my breakup has ebbed enough that my solitude feels exciting and creative.  it's an old feeling - the feeling of aloneness as energy and every day brims with a kind of stifled creative fury.  

what i want right now is to take advantage of this disorientation.  to be unmoored is a gift, of a kind, and i have to resist scrambling for an anchor.  this old feeling is, at least in part, possibility - the terrifying, dizzy, elated old feeling of possibility.