Why is everything I try to do coming out stilted and slow today? I blame you. The general, faceless you. The you who keeps telling me I need to be smaller, wittier, brief.
Writing in a group setting is different, much more like praying together. Or sitting together in meditation. Being present to each other in-process, witness to the very act of soul-deep creativity.
How much do I allow my life to be governed by my decisions? How open am I to making real choices, on a daily basis?