Maybe some tiny shiny key will wash up on the shore.

I do intend to re-visit and expand upon the subtext of my last post. But I just got back from a great long weekend at the beach, and don’t really feel like thinking about it right now. Plus I’m swamped at work, so it’s just going to have to wait.

In the meantime, how’s about some random thoughts and observations for this Tuesday-that-feels-like-a-Monday:

I’m continually astounded by the realization that there are people in my life who know me better than I do. They tell me things, and sure enough, those things end up being true. As a result, I trust them even better than I trust myself; and when I remember to take their words to heart, things always seem to work out for the best.

I have a fear of love, and yet a boundless capacity for it. But actually, I don’t think it’s a fear of love at all; I think it’s a fear of loss. This then manifests itself in what can be (and often is) interpreted as a fear of commitment, when really it’s pretty much the polar opposite of that.

I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: the beach in winter is a magical thing.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about predators and prey. I think it’s possible to misidentify certain complicated relationships in an effort to simplify them. Sometimes I think the “predator” is a kind of victim, while the “prey” wants to be destroyed. (And what preys on seagulls, anyway?)

One of my darkest, most terrifying moments once came at the top of a lighthouse. The memory of it seems so theatrical. Literary. Virginia Woolf, Kate Chopin, Tom Robbins... This weekend, I was confronted by those memories, and it makes me happy to see how far I’ve come since that sad and scary time.

Another thing that makes me happy is the realization that the days are getting longer and longer. I can’t wait to get back outside and start running and training and feeling healthy again. But first, I’m looking forward to a couple of weeks of good, solid hibernation, after which I plan to wake well rested. And hungry.