There is so much I need to write just to get it out of my system. The world has gone crazy and life is so uncertain. There are so many voices out there but none speak my truth. I looked to the blog where I put my professional opinion and coaching wisdoms and saw that this stuff bubbling up in me probably shouldn’t go there. This is more art than coaching, more heart than method. I looked to the other blog with my paintings and drawings and saw for myself the this is more word than image, more poem than paint. Where does it belong? Where should I go to speak the truth of my heart? Then I remembered once upon a time, many years and heartbreaks ago, I asked the same question (around the time I went to cut my hair). Then answer I created for myself was my own river to flow into the world with as simply me – the Singlestream. It was messy, it got me into trouble, it made me friends and lifelong enemies, it was hilarious and I belonged there.
Today marks a return to my blogging roots. I come with compassion for who I was when I was last here and with nostalgia that only comes when you visit a place you once called home only to find you are not the person you were when you left.
I went back to Durham a few years after leaving and found myself more sad than glad. Prebends Bridge was still there, but not the boy I made out with on a spring night before handing over my heart. Elves was as businesslike as usual but with no business of mine. The tree I looked out on when I would study in my room in E House at St. Aidan’s is still there, but gone are the smells of my housemates cooking downstairs or the sound of crazy Euro rock’n’roll across the hall. If I were to ever return it would be to build a new world around me and populate it afresh. I probably never will.
The Singlestream is different. This was and is wholly mine. I get to reconnect with old followers (HI GUYS! Hank, you still there?!) and I get to add to my tribe.
Things will be different this time. That is perfect in its own way.
Time to let the river run…