I had a dream last night. I was back in college and had lots of room mates. As is natural for me, there was one that I looked up to like a big sister, one whose words doted on, a person who I thought was funnier or smarter or better than everyone else, a person whose corona was like a magnet, irresistible drawing me in.
I was like a rogue moon pulled into a satellite orbit around a heavier, denser heavenly body, basking in the dazzle, feeling more secure lassoed by the gravity and cosmic polarity. Everything was illuminated and bright,
Even the course of my life seemed more certain, for I borrowed from their material to create my own luminescent path along the horizon.
But here’s the thing about the bright lights...they always leave. The have an agenda: to blaze their own trail. And no matter how high the luminary’s regard for her little moon, celestial bodies will leave to pursue their own dreams, for they are—actually--comets spinning off to the tune of their own agenda’s, leaving a trail of debris behind them. They have their internal compass set to a specific orbital period and when it’s time to go, it’s time to go!
I’m always crushed to watch them flash off, because I seem to lose my own motivation without the reflected light.
So how do I become my own icy spectacle?
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