The Return

Astarte is a cruel, demanding mistress.

Perfect.

Friends, I am spent. Weak and weary I return to work, relieved and saddened at the same time. I am sore, having used muscles that don't normally get such a workout...I feel drained of life but full of satisfaction...and I wear a stupid grin, proudly, a secret purple heart.

I have explored uncharted waters, navigating the perilous sea with blind faith and bald courage, relying on instinct and experience. But unlike Odysseus, when I heard the sirens' call I did not strap myself to the mast. I gave in, willingly, and abandoned myself to whatever fate awaited.

And what a fate it was. As with all good journeys I learned something about myself previously unknown and discovered that some things previously believed simply aren't true at all.

I need some time to digest what actually happened, to sort through the discoveries and newly awakened desires, to give time and distance a chance to offer a larger view. And then perhaps give a more detailed report of a very, very interesting four days.


M. PotPie