[Afternoon Freewrite]
Nothing seems quite real.  I'm going to be leaving for the trail again.  I'm
going to be hiking again.  I'm going to be free again.  Nothing seems like
it quite means anything.

Where am I going?  This is such a common question with me.  It's as if I
must decide where I am headed again and again every few days.  I think it
is.  Because I don't have an anchor to tie me down.  I am free to float
between so many equally tantalizing possibilities.  None of my dreams have
precedence over another yet.  Do I want to fulfill the dream of being an
eternal hiker?  Do I want to fulfill the dream of being a house-husband?  Do
I want to fulfill the dream of being a writer?

Writer traveler homebody.  THese are the three aspects I think I see in my
future.  Which one do I  want?  All of them.  I want to be a writer and a
travellor and I want to have a family that journeys with me.  Or perhaps I
need to journewy with someone else -- Who is playing hte active role here?
Who is the determinant of the destination?  I tend to wander in circles so
perhaps it is better if I visualize myself having the submissive role.  I
want to marry a traveller who will take me places.

Where will this person be found?  Should I look for them?  Will they look
for me?  Will we find each other or pass in the night?  I wonder just what
is fate and what is chance.  Will love strike or passs you by?  I cannot
know what ...

Have you ever thought.  Maybe i'm just too afraid to let anything work out?
Have you ever thought, here I am and I have love, opportunity, etc standing
right outside, but I'm not willing to let go of the present to accept the
future because I'm frightened of what it might bring?  I am terribly afraid
that I am afraid.  Afraid that I'm a coward who will never be able to carry
on.

The dance.  The dance.  A metaphor that Tarik inspired.  The dance.  An
advancing a declining.  A giddy sort of controlled romp.  "Always leave them
wanting a little more" he siad.  Flirt, but leave a little edge of longing
left.  But that's safe.  Who's in control?  You're in control.  Because
you're always leaving them with a desire while tryiong to keep yourself
without any.  I don't believe in that.  It works.  But it's not me.... It's
not what I want from life, from people.  I don't want to use what I know
about them to manipulate them.  I want to live with true people.  I want to
be a true person.

There is one minute left to this freewrite and I am prepared to go on
writing.  But I do not know how to begin it or end it.  This continuation.

[End Afternoon freewrite]

We had danced together for years.  A slow spinning away and closer.  Like
planets.  That eternal metaphor for formal movement.  Thus we danced.
Trying always to remain just on the edge of breathlessness.  Never straying
too far to one side or the other.  Remain excited -- but in control.

But years have a way of turning once enjoyed games to ash.  And thus our
dance seemed more and more to stop short of pleasure.  The tune was
changing.  And it was time the dance must end or else a different one taken
up.

The snow has melted as though had ne'er fallen.