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writing my way…

sometimes i come here with a clear message. sometimes it is to follow and work out threads of story and to make meaning of life. sometimes it is to simply be with myself.

now is one of those times.

i’m reminded of a favorite quote by sportswriter Red Smith : “there’s nothing at all to writing. all you do is sit down at a typewriter and open a vein.” 

it’s not always painful. it can be cathartic. it can feel holy.

i have nothing to say…there are no words for now.

there are a lot of feelings. mostly, rage. and some grief. fury.

it’s not mine. and it’s in me. i’ve learned to tell the difference. and i’ve also learned it doesn’t matter–and in fact, is impossible–to figure out and analyze. i’m also learning the power of being with the feelings. they are here with purpose.

i recall meg wheatley’s teaching to acknowledge strong emotions: “there is sadness.”

in our world now, to slow down to feel much less name our strong emotions feels revolutionary.

because it is.

and i’m realizing that i’m here, i suppose, to utter aloud: “there is sadness. there is grief. there is rage. there is fury…and there is confusion.”

and it’s ok. it is what it is to be human.

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