Not sure if intriguing
is the right word to describe a life-long quirk I share with my mother – both
of us found it virtually impossible to write about matters that deeply touched
our hearts. The more something
mattered, the more unable we were to express it.
Perhaps
strange is closer to the mark, even disturbing.
What does it say that I never wrote about March’s Leading to Well-Being Conference on either of my
primary blogs? Come on - I had to have written about it - the experience uplifted & shifted my view of my current work. But I'm not finding anything.
No description of feeling Gryf's - our boy of boys - last heartbeat as he slipped from us, the two of us sitting together on his beloved couch as the snow fell outside the living room window. It's not possible I didn't pay tribute to the marmalade cat who's responsible for my claim of having a
heart made of red felted fur. But I'm not finding one, not here or over on Dream Reweaver.
No
reference – after decades of yearning – to what I experienced at my first Omega workshop.
And not a single word about attending
the 2014 National Center for Creative Aging Conference & Leadership Exchange – not a peep.
If I wrote about any of them, I'm sure not finding the postings.
Intriguing
strange disturbing – the absence of any reference, any
description of all that each meant leaves me amazed
informed illuminated. And
means I’ve got A LOT to write about, both here & on Dream Reweaver!
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