Transition In So Many Words

It’s been a while since I’ve posted*, and for that, I am truly sorry.  For those of you out there in blogland, fanning out like puffy silver skydivers throughout the endless sprawl of the internet, who have been waiting patiently for my next post, I give you this.

It’s a spiral staircase, surely.  But to where?  From where?  Why the look of abandonment, the feeling of fall?  Why, indeed.  Is it not clear that ascension is imminent, that stepping through the narrow opening and leaning one’s weight on the first step, grasping the curling rail with one’s hand, and feeling the crunch of scattered leaves under one’s feet, will result in moving ever more fearlessly towards the unknown, which fortunately, appears to be lit rather well?  Is it not evident that the space may be small, that some contortion may be necessary, that perhaps more than leaves will need to be swept away to begin the journey?  Does it not appear that underneath the windswept detritus some order remains, an impulse, a directive, a beacon?

Climb, my friends.  Tell me what’s at the top.  And then I will write about it.

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*Truth be told, my camera stopped working at about exactly the time I stopped blogging.  That’s more than coincidence.  I hadn’t realized how the initial impulse of blogging for me–the spark–came from having the camera, which I carried around with me constantly.  But now, the lens wouldn’t open, and my pictures were hidden inside.  I called Canon, and they said it would be covered by the warranty.  All I had to do was enclose my original receipt, which I cannot find.  I searched all the obvious places, and then the places where I keep important things, and then the places where I keep the things which don’t know if they’re obvious or important, and then the place where I keep the accidents, but it was in none of those places.  It’s somewhere in my house, I know, but there is a bit of chaos in here, and the receipt is swirling near its center.