Rest, rest, perturbéd spirit!

I think we know what a ghost’s perturbéd spirit feels like because our living spirits are so easily perturbéd or at least mine is.
I recall a time when I was pretty unflappable, when rejection rolled off my back like water off an umbrella – that is, it still rained but I didn’t get so wet. I could walk into the wind, face down storms, moving ever forward, toward something I could not give up, would not give up. Sure, I would cry easily, could feel the slightest slight like the princess felt the pea through 20 soft mattresses but I cried as I walked, watching the road under my feet.
At some point, though, the road got so muddy I couldn’t see it anymore and there were times when I had to sit down on a rock, soaked through to the skin.


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