hot blueberries

i havent been writing because I was so dissatisfied of the stories I would be telling. I felt such disappointment that I wrote of unrest and instead of continuing to share I wrote to myself. Maybe part of that is wanting to know more of the limits of when vulnerability is to be shared and when it is intimacy to be held.  I am trying to ask where am i in the healing process before I share? I am not great at this because I have found that part of my healing is sharing. Part of my feeling well is being known more honestly and allowing space that my honesty may also invite yours.  

I try to think of conversations I hold most precious and I often picture ones like blueberry crisp in the ovens. The goodness just busts out. And its crazy messy and runs all in the nooks and crannies. Its a delight and there is always clean up. That's the thing. Those are my favorite conversations - unrehearsed, a bit from the gut, true, even if laced with humor, they are true to the person not sculpted so perfectly for the audience, and they dabble in the mess, in the unknown. The reverse, that really wears me down, are the conversations that share and take back before they can even finish sharing, they solve, they soothe and they start putting their thoughts in reverse and changing them. because they cannot wait for the blueberry to pop, its too scary and hot and sloppy. and they are too afraid that if i see the slop I will not be able to look. or they will not be able to look. either way they protect from the both the goodness and the mess. 

So anywho, long way of saying, I'd like to reconnect and get back into those conversations that invite both the slop and the delight. I'd also like to eat a blueberry crisp now after thinking of it all morning.