I feel a little scorched this morning.
I'm away from home for the exhibition opening and a few days respite time. Late last night, I logged on to the local internet system to check my emails when, for some inexplicable reason, five year's worth of personal and professional correspondence went up in smoke. That's a fair bit of writing. I don't know how this happened. It was there one minute, gone the next. How ephemeral things are, I found myself thinking. And what a powerful statement and metaphor.
My Sent box is empty.
Where could those years and pages of letters and musings have gone to, I wonder? And why now when we're just weeks away from the year I'd chosen to take a 'sabbatical' from my usual commitments for the purpose of synthesis and consolidation - reflecting specifically on these five years of life and learning, work, inner process and travel adventures. How bizarre this is. I was all set!
This has certainly got me thinking. Is this yet another prompt to practice detachment? Hmm. I suspect so. Drat! (That said, I can't deny I'm more than a little intrigued by this little drama.)
Out of the ashes... ?
Well, what else can I do but shake my sooty little feathers and faithfully await the phoenix.