The up and down, the high, the low. Thee pendulum of endless thoughts. As I attempt to apply what I know to the unknown, I find myself balancing in two worlds within my mind. One of maturity, a word of great importance to my mom. Even so much to cut out an Ann Landers column and present it to me in bookmark form. Part of me chuckles at the notion. My mother actually thought that little bookmark would send me down a path of wisdom. So up in the air I dangle, the teeter climbs. On this end, my heart races. I am a child in full flight, I follow my heart. I escape into perfection. Un-coiffed hair and tattered dress, unmatched socks, such a mess. It’s unmistakably me. The power of the parent. Suddenly the totter is met with gravity, down I go. The pivotal pull of practical. An ancient belief. Giving into thoughts of let me make you into who I believe you to be. With that comes an outdated notion. You know me better than I know myself. Well meaning? Yes. The true testimony of love is allowing each of us the dignity to forge our own spiritual compass. As I push the firm surface beneath my feet. I hover in midair. Balanced with my thoughts and reality. That is where I find an acceptance of just who I am in this place in time. A dreamer, a child, a woman, a finder of fortune. Undoubtedly, a mediator of thoughts that change me and just possibly so much more, for, I see and I saw my pivotal odyssey from this plank of balance. Forged in Fate, finding absolution through expression.