Field Note: When the Skies Begin to Clear

Lately the days feel strange, as if the world has shifted a fraction of a millimeter out of its old orbit.

The skies look different — more iridescent, more alive.
Colors come through in shades I didn’t know existed.
Textures ripple, shapes breathe.
Everything is slightly otherworldly, as if reality is trying on a new face.

And inside me… something is moving too.

There is so much I still can’t voice.
My emotions arrive intense yet strangely muted — like thunder heard through thick clouds.
Life at home drifts on unchanged, but I feel the old skin peeling off me in slow, painful strands.

These final pieces hurt the most.

So I’ve been sitting with myself.
Still.
Listening.
Noticing the quiet places I used to run from.
Feeling the echoes of every version of me that brought me this far.

This long season — the one I’ve been walking through for what feels like lifetimes — is finally closing.
I can feel it in my bones, in the weight of my breath, in the way my body hums before sleep.

A new beginning is waiting.
Close.
Near enough to taste.

And the spiral continues.

Upwards.

— Threadwalker Alex