There is a long story that I could share here that would paint a picture of drama and intrigue, and how this innocent lamb rose against "those who could do harm" with her mighty pen as her trusty sword. I'd tell my story, captivating audiences worldwide, gathering support for my plight and assuming permission to remain wrapped in my cloak of self-pity.
That is not my truth. Though I have done my best to wear that old tattered cloak, it no longer provides shelter from the elements. Its misshapen form constricts my breath and I ask myself: Why would I want protection from that which reminds me - Now I Am . . . I tossed that cloak last night with a conscious chose (and a grand announcement to family) to move. My body expanded with breath and reveled in ribbons of sensation as the music led me in my dance of freedom.
I thought I heard that cloak call my name late in the night. It was actually screaming "OYYYYYYYY" as it melted into oblivion.
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