Meteor Showers

My hair smells like intimacy tonight. I'm not comfortable with it. And it feels like a thousand feathers that were misplaced somewhere behind my sweatband. And it's reminding me that everything is just about right.

A friend asked me recently, "Do you ever just have this impending sense of doom? That something bad is going to happen?"

No. Never.

I kind of skate through life on this wild, crazy-person ride that everything is just going to fall into place. And even though I know (from experience, from a million things I could tell you right now without even trying to think) that's not true, I keep skating like my life depends on it. Because my life depends on it. Believing that eventually everything will fall into place makes me help that process along. The idea of doing it alone, without some cosmic aligning aura... well, that's not something I'm quite ready to accept.

And I miss Minnesota. The way it never got quite as warm as I'd want it to. The way long socks had purpose. The way time seemed to run together when I was there. The way it felt like going home. The way thinking back on it makes the tears fall thick and heavy on my sheets... I'm not sure where they're coming from. The way that makes this moment beautiful in its simplicity.

Credo ut intelligam
Intelligo ut credam

I believe so I can understand.
I try to understand so I can believe.