Each year is a new myth exploded.
I'm not afraid of wrinkles and gray hair,
This body is how I navigate through the cosmos, so I try to love it and be kind.
I'm not afraid of death,
It is only the final myth to unravel.
I'm not even afraid of the devil,
because it is our adversary who gives us life's most precious gifts.
I'm eighteen years old and lost things are coming back:
Emails from long vanished friends
Bits of shattered faith discovered in between the cracks of the couch and under the edges of the carpet that I'm piecing together into a mosaic
New things arrive every day too:
New stories spinning out of my brain
A new sense of my place in the old story
New meaning in the ancient struggle for justice
Each year is a new crossroads.
Happy birthday to me!