There have been many occasions in my life when I have felt the necessity for a change of direction, but never so much as now. I have whinged and whined all summer about what has been troubling me, sometimes in veiled word-whispers; oftentimes just pure frustration. Last week I made a decision, and yesterday I acted upon it and wrote my letter of withdrawal from a project which over the last 18 months has taken over and consumed my whole life. You would think I would feel elated, a sense of freedom. But I don't; just sadness, and a weariness of spirit. No doubt clarity will emerge, but it will take time; mental recuperation, and more of those wretched structured plans which are self-imposed and have bedevilled me all of my life. Can you change track as you approach 75? Of course, but my fear is that this might be the thin end of the wedge. P.S. The image above is taken from one of my art-journal pages, and you can see it in its entirety and read the accompanying post on my Journaling blog.