It's always a difficult journey home along those long gray roads, especially in the murky darkness of winter mist and rain. The medians blur together like a miniature version of L. Frank Baum's golden avenue to Oz and sometimes the reflectors in the middle glimmer with the suggestion of treasure in the distance.
It can be a lonely trip returning to the mundane realities of home after so vibrant a weekend away. How was Dorothy able to stand it, I wonder? How do you experience life in Technicolor and yet afterwards still find beauty in the greys of Kansas?
It is a hard fall from so high a place.
I know there exists a safety net below me but I cannot seem to make it out clearly in the shadows. I'm grateful for those who hold its ropes taut, invisible though they remain in my ignorant darkness. Yet still my mind yearns for reassurance.
Where does my life lead? How on earth will I possibly ever maintain a sense of calm in the midst of so many tempests? How do you teach yourself the serenity to withstand the aftermath of disaster, failure, and disillusionment?
Where do I begin?
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