Mail Bag

I received this message from D. yesterday. She writes:

D: Good morning, Vicki,

I wanted to send you a message about your posts and how I am grateful that you do what you do. I am not a serial commenter on Facebook. I am more in the background observing and absorbing what you write. Sometimes I relate, sometimes it causes me to rethink something—sometimes it’s aha and still other times I am annoyed. When I get annoyed, it irritates me because I know I now have have to go looking once again at something in me that is hiding out with its loot waiting for the day I can jump out and rub everyone’s face in my spoils…. victory..revenge…. So just when I think there are no more cookies hidden under the bed you point them out. So in case I haven’t said so lately, thank you for putting it all out there, Vicki.

Vicki: I would not have returned to my blog if someone other than me had not pointed out my hidden stash of cookies. So there you go. We help each other and it always involves exploring another level of hidden pain disguised as pleasure.

My stash was the nice things that readers say to me when they read my notes. Once that is given up, I can relax more deeply into my being. Likewise, when someone throws stones at me, which happens on occasion, I can let them go as well.

I find myself relaxing more and more deeply into the silence these days. Letting things come to me versus trying to force the river to flow in a certain direction.

May I use this in a note?

D: Yes, be my guest … I look forward to more pointings.

V: Great, thanks, D. I appreciate your honesty very much.

And so, dear reader, whether old or new, we are all works in progress. Nothing static about any of us. That should be good news, but some of us latch onto the status quo. We fear that if we let go, things will just get worse. And sometimes, they have to get worse before they can get better.

I did lots of weeping when I first decided to post my notes here instead of on Facebook. It’s called withdrawal. Lest anyone think they are not addicted to Facebook, stop rationalizing and face the music. Or should I say, the silence….

Facebook, by design, is addictive. There is a feeling that we must keep up with everyone else’s business. What is true for me is that I must make my primary relationship be with myself and everything else unfolds from that in due time. It’s all good….



  1. Yes, you are correct. Facebook is addictive. I am trying to wean myself from it. But I’m beginning to realize it may take cold turkey… It’s all good! Thank you!


  2. Dear heart. So glad to read this. So encouraged. Some days, I just can’t read your words. I’m too pissed off about my friend’s death. Sometimes, I miss my mom or my niece or… Sometimes it is just more than I can see…

    Then there are the days, more often than not, that I read you & you resonate like you’re here.

    Bless you, dear heart.


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