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Mixing Metaphors

It gurgles up, the steam and hot water from deep within the crevices of my flesh.  I’m not erupting, but I’m not holding back.

Yes, yes, you want to laugh.  I do.

What I mean to say is that the heat, the joy, the change that is promised by a lengthening day is growing.  What I mean to say is that I feel love, I feel there are pockets or beads of light expanding within me.  What I mean to say is that, after such intense emotion,  a student retreat, a celebration of my dead father’s birthday, settling back into the routine doesn’t feel like settling back into it.  It feels different.

There has been something buried, something that I’ve needed to unearth that I did.  Consequently, I feel able to walk lighter, taller, and flirt better.  Without intention, without expectation, I feel present, and lucky to be so.  It’s natural that I envisioned hot springs or bubbles deep in the ocean.  It’s a perfect metaphor.

But my first sentence belies this.  What it sounds like is a serious gas issue–get away from me and be careful if you come back.  I love it.  Watchout world, here I come with my cosmic farts.

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