I have been living in and finding comfort in the void lately. In tarot, The Fool lives in the void. All potential, ready to leap. In the particularly earthy feminist lore I've been consuming lately, the void is where we come from. It's the source before the spark. And here, it's is the blank page, as I wonder how to translate my potential energy.
It's a terribly uncomfortable place to sit still, anticipating the upcoming hurricane. Queasy with doubt. Equal parts bursting with excitement and trembling in fear. But there's nothing else to it. Not really. Not until we take the leap out of the void and into life, carving out our origin story. And so I guess this is it. The first stroke of paint on the path of autonomy.