Amor Fati

There are many things that I don't get very well. I don't understand how or if the mass of the planet and the speed of the earth's rotation compel me to stay stagnant to counter how much I'm already moving, or if the gravity of the sun which keeps our little ball in orbit affects my moods more than the rise and fall of its good mornings and good-byes do. Maybe it's the the tug of our growing and fading moon which hovers around so silently yet stirs up the crashing of waves that pulls my spine upright as I exhale the fog of my mind away. Perhaps it's as simple as the tectonic plates that move at the rate of a fingernail's pace that won't let my heart feel fully grounded. In precisely one year, I've taken a wide revolution around the sun while ten million breaths have come and gone, and after it all, I'm still right where I had begun. I've found myself here again. The air remains crisp, sometimes too thin to bear, but upon this return--