Please excuse me.

I never sat down to write today. I’ve had it in the background of my thoughts while in meetings, on phone calls, doing errands, and now staring at a blank screen and flashing cursor. The writing hasn’t stepped from the background, and now I find myself coaxing it forward. I have taken a run at few opening lines.

“I told a lie today.”

“It’s a strange feeling. I don’t feel like I have any threads to pull.”

“Plumbing always makes me a little nervous.”

“How do we bounce our identities off nothing but faith?”

“The memory of the sun rising out of the sea has almost faded.”

But teasing it isn’t working. I think each of these lines could lead to something rich and interesting, but I am full. I’ll admit that by waiting to the end of the day, my thoughts are competing and have grown louder as I look back on what I’ve done and how I’ve said what I thought I meant today. The place where I have gone these last two weeks to have a conversation with my self somehow eludes me.

I’m not going to force it. I’m here, I showed up. I am so deeply grateful for the permission that I have given myself to follow this edge of this practice. Every day I get a chance to write a little bit about what matters to me, and about who I am becoming.

Today, while technically one could make the argument that I have fulfilled that, I feel that I have fallen short. I’ll admit this is hard for me to write, but taking a moment to sit with the acknowledgement versus forcing something out of fear motivated by guilt feels inauthentic.

This writing practice was not meant to be extemporaneous journaling, but it was also not meant to be finished works of prose. I am going to give myself a time-out. I’m going to admit that I’m not sure what I want to share, and gracefully beg your pardon in order that I may show up again tomorrow.