hope

how do i even begin?  it's been so long, i'm not sure if i recognize me.  recognize the serious and sympathetic, the poignant and poetic.  at least i hope i was these things, hope i am these things.  it's already november and i haven't written anything of creative substance in almost a month.  the reason?  i'm afraid of failing.  just starting seems much too difficult.  it's as if i've lost who i am.  in part that is.  i'm flourishing in so many ways but those ways have not made it to the page and i fear that perhaps they never will.  can't be as fresh, can't let the butter of their true brilliance saturate the layers of a freshly baked hot biscuit.  at least i hope they were fresh, i hope they were brilliant.  they were, are, to me anyway.

it feels so strange writing again.  it feels difficult to let it all spill onto the page.  sadness and confusion are easier to write than fear.  fear, i fear, doesn't look very good on me. 

i move from the bed to the chair an admission that perhaps this timid little post might actually be my re-introduction.  who knows.  but i hope.  there isn't much of that around these days, hope.  wasn't that obama's slogan, hope?  that was bold.  another four letter word.  fear.  also four letters.  but i won't go on enumerating four letter words.   what is this about?  me.  yes me.  i've grown so much.  i'm not sure if you can see it.  can't quite catch it with a measuring stick, but i know i've changed.  as i should and as i have no choice.  but i'd like to think that my recognition is worth something.  i wish i could tell you everything that i've been learning.  i wish i could get it all down onto the page.  i hope someday i will.  until then, i continue to punch keys in the dark and pray that i won't be afraid to write exactly what's in my mind.  honesty.  and not try to repackage how i'm feeling because the Buddhists remind me to be mindful and of mind.  yes, i'm trying.  i'm thinking so hard it hurts.  to be simply myself.  to do as best i can in this life.  to live and to write words as they come to me.  not to lose the honesty, the open heartedness of it all.  is the difficulty in my mind alone?  i am overwhelmed by all the details of this life and i'm afraid to write because i don't know if i can do them justice and i'm afraid i won't remember it all and i'm afraid it won't have enough heart or eloquence or wit.  i'm afraid i'll get it wrong, i'll botch this beautiful thing called life.  lately i have been fearful.  i hope, with this uncomfortable admission, i will make my way back to writing.  i hope.  i hope.