a yellow tab

Scottish shortbread cookie tin can with art by Steven Brown

A yellow tab sticks out of the notebook where I transcribe a word, a phrase, a sentence or two, sometimes a thought — whatever I want to set down as I read in the morning. Hmm, from one page to another? Have many notebooks, full, for I read and jot almost every day. May have taken sabbaticals here and there, but those have been few. Perhaps that’s why I am driven to write:
to let out a truth for others to read (first wrote learn, then hear, but it’s obviously read) or a lie for me to let go.

back to the yellow tab

. . . a ‘continuity of being’ thought keeps pinging in my head. I AM who I WAS at age 10, 25, 40, and now at 56, and who I will be. The same. I have grown and developed in my natural self. Is that why we feel ‘young’ or ‘not my age’ as we mature? Because THAT PART | essence is untouchable?

But how come some people DON’T FEEL THAT? Has ‘it’ been thwarted, have they closed their hearts, been convinced otherwise?

Something to ponder

if you have a lot of fear, you won’t like change … work to release it, or you can keep it and try to hide from it … you have defined HOW THINGS NEED TO BE in order for you to be OKAY.

Michael A. Singer
(emphasis mine)

our fear lest it should be a mercenary desire will die away and finally be recognized as an absurdity

in speaking of this desire … I am trying to rip open the inconsolable secret in each of you … We cannot tell it because it is a desire for something that has never actually appeared in our experience. We cannot hide it because our experience is constantly suggesting it …

… the scent of a flower we have not found, the echo of a tune we have not heard, news from a country we have never yet visited …


January 20th — jotted almost two full pages, this is not even half of it.
Funny, how sometimes reading from different sources in one sitting melds.
(will keep the yellow tab where it is)