Thermal Runaway:  A situation where an increase in temperature changes the conditions in a way that causes a further increase in temperature leading to a destructive result. It is a kind of  positive feedback. -- Wikipedia
I'm on a roll
I'm on a roll, this time
I feel my luck could change
-- Radiohead
Sometimes starting over is as easy as burning the past.  And not as a way to sweep dust and ashes under the proverbial rug, but as a way to reclaim the phoenix.  I opened the box and sat with letters written on so many pages of virgin paper that a staunch environmentalist would be required by her own oath and code to begin protest outside my door.  I watched the postmarks progress.  Almost twenty years of a life (lives) documented on paper.  Handwritten.  Typewritten.  Ink smeared across the page.  I read until my heart was full.  I read until the letters began to dance around the page and no longer formed words.  I lit the match.
Sometimes burning the past isn't as easy as starting over.  Especially when a storm takes hold on what should be still, almost-summertime weather.  The wind began with a whisper and increased exponentially.  It reminded me that a life cannot be un-lived or re-lived.  It reminded me that I burn the pages to remember.  And to be cleansed.  I want to be reborn full grown.  I want to wash the bitter taste from my mouth.  I want to let go of my attachment.  I want the chains to soften and fall away. 
I gave the matches to the wind and continued my efforts.  I held each page over a flame provided by Q. I tossed the fragments one by one into a glazed ceramic planter until the words became smoke.  I inhaled deeply.  The fire grew and I was surrounded in the thick air.  The planter shattered and a piece hit me in the leg.  I am quiet.  And listening.
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
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