April 8, 2026

On such a clear and sunny day like today, much like yesterday, I have struggled to understand why my intuition and creativity feel like heavy clouds linger over them. The sky is a bright blue, reminiscent of mid-summer days, with zero hints of any overcast weather to come. Yet, as I held my pen yesterday and fought over the title of my piece, I pored over my writing as though it were a newborn, barely able to function without my oversight. With strategic breaks for coffee and checking mail, only to find nothing was waiting for me, I found myself back at my desk, attempting to make sense of my mind and its waning power to create. At least for the time being.

It’s been a week or more since I removed the rug from my living room, and it made the space feel like it could breathe again. Like thoughts and dreams could pass through. After nearly two decades, finally, the room looks like it is centered around me and my interests. With the dog ready to blow his coat all over my house, I knew my days of freedom to do as I wished with my floor would be numbered. 

But, as luck would have it, I don’t need a hairless dog to remind me that I never needed permission – to move, to exist or just pass through. Currently, my living space is organized so I can stand smack dab in the middle of the room, and there is nothing there except my own body and my own two feet.

I have thought a lot the past few days about what it means to de-center men in my own life. I am the type who has spent most of her life not knowing where I end and other people begin. And when it came to relationships, this clear definition never really existed. I had dreamed in the past of living on my own and creating the life I really wanted, but I always felt like I was the one person in the entire Universe who was exempt from this liberty. I just wanted to be able to do as I wish with no fear of authority, perceived or real, looming over me. Much like the blue skies above my head with no clouds in sight, they remind me that what I think should be there really isn’t, and never needed to be.

So, as I gaze out my sliding glass window to the clear skies in the distance, I consider what it means to simply pass through with no intention of remaining. As dynamic spiritual beings, change is the only constant, and may it always be that way.

Today, I am sharing a flash fiction piece, entitled “Passing Through.” It’s about a woman attempting to discover where she begins and other people end, and ultimately, realizes she has more freedom than she realizes. I hope you enjoy this story, and check out other creative writing on my website.