These conditions-both self-made and by chance-these conditions make me question my journey’s purpose. What meanings can I derive from this seemingly never-ending state of fluctuation? How long must my heels feel the heat of hell, and my ears hear the songs of heaven? What, I ask, is the Rite of Passage I must encounter before I find solid footing? When will I find my place, and where will it be? This state of transition is so uncertain. I long to simply belong.
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Published by jgalyn
I'm too humble to write a memoir after three decades. View all posts by jgalyn