I'm reading and greatly enjoying The Art of Possibility on my new BART commute to San Francisco. It makes me smile! So I hold the book up high, and maybe my fellow commuters will see me smiling and want to buy the book, too.
This evening I got hypnotized for the first time. Or at least, the first time by a hypnotist. The deep relaxation is meant to last and last. Yet I remained fearful even while relaxed of actually feeling sadness. I'm frightened of that sadness. I'm afraid I'll drag others down with me.
Then I spoke with my father on the phone. After our nice visit for his birthday, he and I agreed to "put it in the calendar!" and talk every Wednesday. I realized while talking with him, all of a sudden, that I had been blaming his "over-technical" style as the reason for years of not-closeness. How convenient - and by the way I've been accused too, and very rightly, of being one of the most technically-minded people around. So I told him, I was just scapegoating the Mr. Fixit thing, as an excuse so I could remain stand-offish for years. Jeez, I'm such a piece of work!
So next time we talk we'll pick it up from there -- competitiveness and analytical-ness vs. warm, loving expression. And raising kids.