This weekend I traveled to OKC. Most of that tine was spent in El Reno for a wedding and celebration. And the rest of that time was spent recovering on Misti's couch. Then mix in some (too short) visits and food with Traci and Quinn and that's a pretty full weekend. But the weekend was not just full of busy things. This weekend filled my heart and made the gears in my brain churn. I didn't really know many people at the wedding or the after wedding party. These were all Misti's and Audra's people. I didn't know them, but many of them knew me. I introduced myself to one girl as "Cindy" and she replied "Cindy Maddera? I read your blog!". This wouldn't be the only time I'd hear that on that particular day. It caused my insides to freeze up a bit. I get so used to the idea that I write here for a very small number of readers (like five). I hardly ever stop to think about other people that may read this. I've worked so hard at staying authentic and completely honest in my writing here that to hear it's read by virtual strangers made me feel a bit naked. It was a very odd feeling and there's a part of me that wants to zip myself up. It makes me think about censors and filters.
But that's not the point is it? How do you stay authentic and honest with out saying anything? I might censor myself here if I think what I say might hurt another's feelings. To be honest, if I think I'm going to hurt someone's feelings by writing something, I just don't write it. But in general there are no censors or filters here. I feel I have a responsibility to myself to be authentic. Now, I feel I have to be even more responsible in the things I say, in the words that I put out there for the world to read. I realize now just how much writing here is a practice. Buddha teaches right mind, right speech. This is also something taught in yoga. "If you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all" is a phrase we learn as pre-schoolers. Writing here teaches me how to say things in a way that doesn't cause harm, but at the same time allows me to remain me.
It's kind of like standing on a cliff waiting to jump into the cool water below. You know it can be done and that you'll be fine, but it doesn't make it any less terrifying. I choose to leap.