It's hard to do admit that you hate this state, people, circumstance or feeling. Somehow hating is undignified, like the bursting tantrums of a callow teen and yet when it has been internally whispered or owned, as some people say, there is a new freedom, a surging empowerment; new ideas come and solutions seem possible. This is what I notice inside as I journey out of this little Spanish town- the week-old grey sky is cracking up, an old worn blue is peering through and I am calmly clear.
And when clarity comes it always surprises me that it wasn't there before. What access is there to it? It seems hidden in the woods, in a lonely old forgotten shack.
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