Thursday, May 12, 2011


When I read something (or hear something, but usually its by reading) that I absolutely and completely understand from the core of my being, several things happen.

While reading it, I don’t want it to end. I want to know what happens next. I want more. I am never satisfied. Sometimes I want to know the tiniest details about the situation or person - like what they had for breakfast, or what books are on their nightstand currently.

Many times, these are insights I have felt and known to be true (mostly about myself) but couldn’t express it; didn’t recognize it as a feeling. I felt like I was one step away from knowing this. And then I read it and I feel a huge sense of discovery.

Like when Lindsey writes about her bubble or when Dani writes about being an outsider.

And I am thankful for this person for putting it out there.

And I feel a little less lonely, weird, different.

And I am a little mad at myself for not knowing this - when it was right in front of my face.

And I am a little disappointed in myself because maybe, just maybe, I knew it but was too scared to put it out there.

And I am thankful, not only for the person writing it, but for who I am , for the fact that I get it. Like when Elizabeth Gilbert wrote on the act of writing, “This is a path for the courageous and faithful. You must find another reason to work, other than desire for success or recognition. It must come from another place.” I am immensely thankful that I have access to another place.

And I am gentle with myself, because perhaps if it would have come to me at a different time, I wouldn’t have heard it.

When I feel these connections to other people and the world itself, whether its joy or pain, alpha or omega, I sometimes pause in awe, knowing that these are truly magical moments.

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