Despite my workload and 4:40am wake-up time this summer, I have held this thought, this Joan Didion title in my head, pondering it during those brief and sporadic moments of silence and rest. All of its meanings and possibilities have not yet reached me. I find fragments and slivers on the ground and in the morning cereal that force me to change what I had previously thought. It still, however, aptly describes my foundation year, one full of magical thinking.

There is more than just the allusion and adventures of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardy being invoked. Indeed, there were mythical, psychological and even psychosomatic struggles. The thinking became very abstract but yet like a tree in the backyard: growing, shedding...shading. Therein, I believe, lied the magic.

I thought in circles and squares then in points and colors. There was a window and a road...a back and forth. Water spilling over edges and a line forming. Absence and a light switched on. I keep arriving and leaving but never reaching home. Then there was nothing and too much. A bird singing and a sense of so much more to come...maybe another year of magical thoughts, of magical living.

together in the struggle...

until next write...