a kind of nothingness

There’s a kind of nothingness coming here this morning. Ideas flow, pretty much every moment, but none have stuck for here. I have no clue whether this is a place where words come across as worthy, of if my showing up every weekday – just that – is worthy. My Morning Pages have become daily treasure chests – open and peek inside. Better than Crackerjacks and box of cereal prizes, more like how it felt watching a sufer speed across a small wave yesterday in the grayness at the ocean before a meditation meeting. Which had a low turnout, the meeting, though it wasn’t the case with surfers and seagulls. And homeless cats and kitties.

This cannot help but be a different Tuesday for me, and like with the Pages, there’s some fun anticipation. People say suit up and show up. Again – how could it be otherwise.