ping pong headache

It is time and past time for the tides to shift again. i sense them coming in.. too soon to feel, to see or smell; but they announce their arrival all the same. Everything is due to shudder, re-align itself into new patterns. And i am nervous, not knowing where they will fall. Where i will land when they do.

i have been riding a witch-wave, trying to surf the currents. To land in El Mundo Bueno. Surely a way exists to find it, surely there is some break, something that can take me safely through to where i belong - but i have not yet found it, and my time grows short. i know that i am on the path, headed in the right direction. Just not yet there. How do i find it, how do i break through to where i need to be?

i cannot follow where the crow flies, though i may speak with them as messengers. i am still Between, neither wholly of that world nor this. Its not that i wish to leave this world behind - i am not seeking that, not exactly. No, it is my path and choice to bring that world to this one, to shape and change the world around me so that it more closely resembles the places i go beyond the wall of sleep.

And the patterns are shifting. i have been on this cusp before, or one very like it - and yet not the same. The last time i was here it was darker, denser, the way ahead far less clear. Now - now i can see the places where things have re-aligned themselves. Old obstacles have melted, though the toughest still remain. i hold on to hope, Nothing Left But Faith to see me through. i always land on my feet somehow; but not without leaning hard on others to maintain my balance. Too much on some as those i sense 'should' be there duck away. Perhaps that is a failing of my senses.

By my touchstones, the subtle rhythm of the tides, messages in bird calls, secret directions in the pages of fiction, i'm on a road - i'm on The Road. i feel my luck could change, If. How much do i dare? i am not completely throwing down to Fate, walking away and passively waiting for the silver carpet to unroll at my feet. i navigate by faith and trust and instinct; they steer me generally in the right direction but not without bumping into rocks and tearing my fins on sharp knuckles. Sometimes i think i don't trust enough and sometimes that i trust too much - or in the wrong places.

i swim as the currents ebb and flow around me, comb out my hair on the rocks, and sing what i can. i have all stories to tell, and none. i have shored up my sand castle with pebbles, but winter promises to be early and bleak. Every lifeline i think i have found ripped away. i shall not drown, that avenue closed to me. i have seeded, and there is growth, but will the harvest be enough to sustain me? Majik demands my time, but will it honour the bargain i seek to strike? Too many questions. i must dive, and see where i surface next.