Is it okay to talk about this yet? When have our minds ever helped us? The royal “us”, as in all of us.
If my soul says “I am…”, echoing my spirit, which itself echoes what is, then my mind inserts and fills in a blank: “I am —·—·—”.
I am willing. I am able. I am intent. I am grieving.
Somewhat apocryphally, Abe Lincoln tamed the disorder of his Springfield law office with a pile of papers labeled “If you can’t find it anywhere else, look here.” Trying to find a common thread in the research that increasingly consumes me has left me wanting just such an envelope. But, hey, it’s 2019, silicon is the new paper. Why not make it a website?