Words flow and then they don’t.

Inspiration dries.

Writers block.

I know this is in part because I am sick. Again.

I wonder though if part of me is afraid to reveal truths in my life. Truths of my beliefs.

If I open up and let you see me, I risk being labled. Put into a box.

I don’t think that’s ever helpful, really, putting others in boxes. People are too wonderfully, gloriously, messily complex to fit into any one box. Still, we, people tend to do just that and I think that I may be afraid that if I open up, I’ll get stuck in a box and you won’t hear me. I suppose if that’s the case, my words are not for you and that has to be ok

I also wonder if part of me, the overly logical, rational part is afraid of looking foolish. The part of me that struggles to believe, no matter the things I’ve experienced.

And to that part, I ask who cares?

Should we fully allow ourself to embrace this crazy life we live, what is the harm? Are there pains on this path? Most definitely but not ones that I would give up

Maybe, just maybe,

It’s ok to surrender

and live life openly

And magically.