A Reality of Extremes

I still believe in the sticks of fire,
M

On days like today I am reminded of my path.

I read a tiny zine one time. 

It told me that I would follow my path because I believed in it.  Along the path I would be rich, and I would also be destitute.  Along the path, I would be stuck for what seems to be ages in one city, and I would also travel to places I'd never dreamed of. Along the path, I would cry harder than I'd ever cried, and I would also experience joy deeper than I thought possible.  Along the path I would be hungry and I would be full.  I would be well-rested and sleep-deprived.

Three weeks ago, I broke up with D, and have been violently bouncing between feelings of [elation at my re-found creativity] and [thoughts of inadequacy].  Two days ago, I had a meeting with the owner of a prominent local brewery, who said that my partner and I could have access to $15K worth of his equipment in order to start a community brewpub, contingent upon us getting our licensing and certifications in place.  Today, my truck overheated and needs a radiator repair, and I have $100 to my name.  Also today, I was offered a trip to Costa Rica in April, to travel with the family I babysit for, with expenses paid.

I am so rich and so poor at the same time.  I can't repair my car but I have access to $15K of brewing equipment. I am exhausted at working three jobs, but I feel more alive, more creative, and more productive than I have in years.  I am stuck in Tampa, I am travelling richly.

I am also having regular deja vu.  When I make tea, when I brew beer. 

I am doing this right.