Song of Myself

I CELEBRATE myself, and sing myself,

And what I assume you shall assume,
For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.

- Walt Whitman

I keep a running list called "starts," where I write down the things that pass through my mind.  I have always done this but the times have changed, I used to keep a notebook but now I use my phone.  I have dozens of notebooks scattered through boxes and stored in weird places, sometimes they are only used a page or two and sometimes they are dog-eared and dirty with words.  

From "starts"

Who are my people here in this new place?

I am starting to bump my dot

against so many circles

Looking for a home

I love to read my old words, to see a snapshot of who I have been and what I once was thinking.  I impress myself with my past self, which makes me feel relieved when I think about who I am becoming.  Because in those moments, the past ones, I was the person that spooled those words from my brain and from my heart, from my gut.  That was me.  I could have been feeling anything - inadequate, unsatisfied, lazy, tired, sick, sad, joyful, confident, angry, relieved, peaceful, free.  But I was not those feelings.  I moved on from them and into others.  I uprooted myself and replanted in better sunlight.

I have been alone

For a million years

But I’m just learning

To be by myself.