I've arrived here somehow, still oddly awake at an obscene hour and creeping up to the edges of thoughts that are too sleepy in the daytime to make themselves known. It's the time of night when the world finally gets surreal enough for my head to speak up and remind me that the goings-on up there involve more than the mechanics of my day-to-dayness, that there is a deep, quietly rippling moonlit pool there and a small me sitting at the edge, wanting to dive in and find out what's at the bottom.
Or maybe it's not really what lies at the bottom of that pool that draws me at all, but the sensation of swimming through it, the waters flowing through body and soul, undulating with the outward-moving memory of that first contact below the surface. Maybe it's the process, the impossible-to-describe feeling of getting back in touch with that part of my mind that needs the awareness of something beyond get-up-and-work-and-cook-and-breathe-and-teach-and-sleep, something warm with the aqueous promise of higher purpose and deeper meaning.
It's been weeks since my smaller self has sat at the brim of the moonlit pool in my mind, and it feels good tonight just to soak up the silence and dip my toes in again, swirling them around in introspection and wondering....
--Teri.
