Mid-life is a time where the old is burned off, and even though our waistlines grow, the bare bones of us are exposed.

The raw, naked guts of us, if we’re willing.

I’m willing.

I had always thought that a calling was something that would be found inside my zone of genius. Something I would find easy and simple (but others didn’t); that I would do all day every day just for the joy of it.

Fuck me, it’s been a long wintering. I’ve written only two posts here since mid-November my creative smarts have been tucked up in my bear-cave with me under a big blanket, snuffling, curling up in a ball and knitting while watching Traitors.

I had always thought that a calling was something that would be found inside my zone of genius. Something I would find easy and simple (but others didn’t); that I would do all day every day just for the joy of it.