Monday, February 5, 1996

Twenty-two atop the mountain

I keep believing that I need to find my lost self, that all I have to do is reach deep within myself, to find the old me. But it finally came to me that no matter how much I don't like it, I am a different person now. The basic mold, the fundamentals, sure — still me — but the old me is just a memory. It's not really something that I can find buried within me. It's not something that will someday reappear when my problems disappear or when I finally lose weight. If I liked the old me, which I did, then she becomes a model that I can use to re-create myself when I find the strength to do so. And that time is now. The strength will come as I need it, as I create it, as I learn to let go or accept, or to fight in those places of life where I really mean it — to listen to my soul which fights are essential, and where to bow down and move quietly along.

—Terri Guillemets

Thursday, February 1, 1996

Harsh sun, soft steps

If the world were all logic, poetry would starve to death.

—Terri Guillemets