Move.

1.1.16

2016 feels like the exhale I’ve been meaning to take. It feels like movement. It sounds like the quiet but clear voice that whispers, “It’s time.”

Our dreams are no good unless they’re sitting in front of us, peering into our ravenous souls, chanting anthems and proclamations that remind us again and again: this is it. These are our mountains to climb. Our mountains to move.

T.S. Eliot writes, “Do I dare/ Disturb the universe?” And to that I say, hell ya.

-b

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