goodness, can you believe that today we’re saying goodbye to March already?

Shoko Wanger writes:

It’s occurred to me recently that what my own world looks like – its seasons, its moons, the speed of its orbit – is something I have a hand in shaping.

And two more from Anais Nin:

I postpone death by living, by suffering, by error, by risking, by giving, by losing.

You live… sheltered, in a delicate world, and you believe you are living. Then you read a book (Lady Chatterly, for instance), or you take a trip…and you discover that you are not living, that you are hibernating. The symptoms of hibernating are easily detectable: first, restlessness. The second symptom (when hibernating becomes dangerous and might degenerate into death): absence of pleasure…Millions live like this (or die like this) without knowing it. They work in offices. They drive a car. They picnic with their families. They raise children. And then some shock treatment takes place, a person, a book, a song, and it awakens them and saves them from death. Some never awaken. They are like the people who go to sleep in the snow and never awaken.

It’s going to be April tomorrow, we will awake, together we will gleefully climb our way out of the snow, we will find sunlight (and along with it, the strength to create our own planets). We have survived yet another almost-unbearable winter, and we will hold our heads high into the sunlight. Perhaps, even, the weight of our dreams will seem like air. Next week, my little ship will be crash landing onto fiery Texas sunsets and bluebonnets (and hopefully, maybe, into eyes of a similar hue). I’ve studied your moons. Measured the speed of your orbits. Been captured (captivated?) by the persistence of your gravity. This is the only season we have yet to see in our world. Like I said – creation of our own planets.