Of my finer qualities, the most humdingerish of them all is my ability to cover myself from head to toe in my own prickly, sharp, unapproachable anger while at the same time demanding love, safety and tenderness—as I rail against all of it, expecting it to come closer. As I judge and fume and lose control, wishing for safe connection.
How many years have I worked on letting go and softening and opening? I submit this request every day.
I know that my wish for myself goes up and out into the air and it gets heard by all the other Angry Nice People because they understand my difficulty, in moments, of just being who I am without all the hullabaloo, all the rancor and they know that this is what has kept me safe and they will tell me that on this deciphering journey that, even if I so often choose the wrong road on my way to mapless hope, I must/need/should keep moving forward toward that gorgeous place where there are long, open moments of calm.
Yours In Counting To Ten-ish,