Hi Reader,

Can I share something vulnerable with you?

When I sit down to write this newsletter in the precious little time I have to do so, and nothing comes to mind to write about, I feel ashamed and inadequate.

So I sit quietly, and listen, and eventually something comes to me. Sometimes I don't want to write it. I didn't want to write that last paragraph. I'm having trouble even looking at the words, in fact. I'm doing a lot of glancing down and to the side (grateful for my ability to touch type).

We have a bunch of kids' books from Kobi Yamada. Check him out. I envy this guy. He seems to have a level of clarity I want but am not yet skilled enough to have realized.

It's easy to think that because I'm on the journey that I should be just as far along as anyone. It's easy to believe that I should have this worked out by now and the fact that I haven't means there's something wrong with me.

And I continue to practice listening, including to the part of me that's quietly, persistently saying "there's nothing wrong with feeling like there's something wrong."

Both things, apparent opposites, wrong and not-wrong, vibrating like a string. Producing the music that is my life. And I am the one listening.