Tectonics & A Papier Mâché Piñata

Earthquakes. Tsunamis. Volcanoes. The tectonic plates of my world are shifting and groaning. The ground is shaking. I am readjusting, releasing old, slowly accumulated pressures.

That's one way to see it.

It's also like a big easter egg, a piñata, a papier mâché prison I've built around myself in patterns repeated for at a dozen years. Ultimately my prettily and painstakingly constructed egg became too oppressive and I'm bursting through, busting the chicken wire and the glue and the hardened paper. Breathing new air. Crawling out of the small space to stretch my legs and arms and back, and start moving. Growing. Expanding.

Whether it's tectonic shifts or the lovely thought of me being the prize in the piñata, change is afoot.

What's prompting such descriptions of Moss's inner realm? That strangely prophetically applicable sun sign horoscope I get in my email applies. I accept its implicit challenge.

Are you really prepared to travel further afield to ensure your expansion and growth? Or, on the grounds of familiarity, are you going to stick with the same-old, same-old, despite what you said about sticking with that choice?