A Year to Unpack

My brain is a mine field of ideas undone.

Half-baked thoughts and abandoned inklings all tangled up like synaptic trip wires. I haven’t given it the freedom to explore. And it’s a mess up there.

So I’m taking a year to unpack.

To carefully untangle, and extract each energetic, unruly little spark. Observe it. Play with it. Give it the time of day. Turn it over and read the instructions.

Some will be baked, some will be burned, some will burn me. Some I will label neatly with a fountain pen and place on the shelf, for later.

Most of them probably have an expiration date. That’s okay. Not every idea is mine to keep. So I’ll pass those along for others to untangle.

Eventually each one will have its moment to be something. Something new and different for the world to try.

They might spit it back out, but that’s okay too. Not every idea is for now.

Sometime they come too early. Like a tiny alien landing in a big world that doesn’t speak its language, yet.

But the ideas will keep coming.

As long as the ingredients are good, and true, and treated with respect — carefully unpacked, and ready. To be used, when the time is right.

So I’m taking a year to unpack.

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