never in my history (okay, well, once before)have i been here...this dry place...this place with so many ideas and no hands to work them...so many grains of sand in the desert, but without water, no sandcastle can be built. i am on the verge of doing something i have never done: giving up. different from not finishing, which is a temporary resting of an idea or project till the sparks fly again...till that one rusty piece appears and suddenly you know that's what was missing. no, this is different. this is more final. and there has been a huge and compelling and incredibly private reason for it. i only know that in these wee hours when i've wandered the floors and paced my street like a coyote, the only peacefulness has been when i allowed the entertainment of the thought that there is a LifeLesson that this project was meant to bring me, and nothing more. the easily accomplished and wonderful ideas i have, seem to short-circuit between brain and the fingers...the endless running in place...the hours spent trying to work the plan...or, as in the title of one of Georgia's books: coax nectar from longing. it has all caused me to pick apart every aspect of my creativity...my life's motivations...to poke into the dark corners with a stick as i look for a mouse nest or dust bunny...a clearing and a clarifying....a burning away of the chaf and ego and useless stuff that collects around the corners as we trundle through life. the signs and wonders lit my path like the high beams on prison walls - there would have been no mistaking them, had i chose to look. i spent an inordinate amount of time (even for me) examining these things this summer, while at the same moment standing back as an observer wondering what the hell i was doing spending so much time examining these things and not doing. summer is a good time for this...when the thoughts spin too closely, scaring up a tornado, there is always a walk through the woods to settle the storm. as to the ephemeral lessons that hung in the mist just out of sight ...my eyes finally adjusted to the fine light, and there they were. and it all suddenly fell into place. and the fears that kept me from looking too closely - once again proved to be false. i am grateful for these lessons...as difficult as they have been (and continue to be, as a few dusty corners are still holding out). and i can honestly say i now know how metal feels when it's sanded...sparks flying, grinding noises whining. these lessons have had their work cut out for them as they tried to cut through this fortressed heart. and as my 7th grade Self accepts that her time is gone, once and for all, i can step forward - hopefully to a place of rest for a while - and begin again with a new perspective...rather, an old one, with improvements.