Vulnerable Times: Day Eighteen

Lee has been reading my blog.  She has concerns. Concerns I am leaving myself too vulnerable.  Yes, she is right and for someone who has only met me a couple of times, it is wonderful to hear her voice the core concern of my writing life.  A writer opens herself up, hopes for love and admiration, often receives rejection, criticism, and occasionally on a good day, some unbridled acrimony. It makes me laugh how transparent I am.  On Saturday, I was quite harsh with myself, so disappointed that after some pretty significant progress the attitude adjustment I was hopeful was taking place, seemed to be stalled and would never really change me from being exactly who I always was.  On Sunday, I did not meditate.  Lee's comment:  "Who would want to sit for twenty minutes with the person you described?"  I am predictable.

We talked about many important things.  The state of being and the invisible life force, nothingness, the new empty spaces in my bathroom drawers, a wonderful book title "Wherever you Go, There You are."

I have much to think about, but I need to think about nothing.