Older, but no wiser

It was about nine months ago, I think, that I quit counselling. I never did complete that story here, did I? It’s too late now; if I tried from the perspective of today, it would be a different story. Whatever was in my soul then is not the same as you’d find there now.

Funny how things spring up on one unexpectedly, though. It’s many weeks since I attempted writing my “morning pages”, as prescribed by Julia Cameron’s “The Artist’s Way”, so I took my notebook and went to sit in the sun at lunch time, exchanging the view of the inside of the office walls for the outside - and after half a page of incoherent nothing, found myself writing these words – just for me, for no-one else in particular (after all, that’s the point of morning pages) –

“What happened about all that counselling? What was the end of that? I miss the chance to meet with me…”

I miss the chance to meet with me; what a strange thing to say…