It doesn't really matter why, and maybe I don't even know why, but for some reason I do not tend to let very many people get very important to me. I don't want to spend any time here on this idea, probably most people are like this. I don't like to feel/be inter personally vulnerable.
That's not how I want to be though. (Well, the truth is I struggle with it.). It's complicated ... but I don't think it's supposed to be. That falling backwards and somebody catches you ... trust building exercise ... not so much for me. No thanks. Coupled with that resistance is this: I think we are supposed to acknowledge our connectedness to one another. The people and events of your life (my life) become more or less significant at my choosing, but they're not arbitrary ... that's what I think. Even the simplest encounter becomes a thread which is spun into the yarn making it a stronger thread (thickness or density). Choice combined with circumstance weave those strands in to the warp (length-wise) and woof or welt (width or interlacing with the warp) of the tapestry that expresses your (my) life. You get to pick up some color and texture, pattern and scale ... design features ... and you get to choose how your fabric is used, or treated. Those encounters I choose should make my life more interesting ... meaningful ... we collaborate with one another as we create who we are and the paths that take us to who we become.

Here is another possible best day.
About two years ago I chose to try to trust someone within the constraints of a specific environment. Like a swimmer who has washed up on the shore after a big storm, grateful to be alive, yet longing to swim again (or at least get in the water) ... I needed a safe place to get my feet wet, to wade in gradually moving towards the deeper waters. I chose to trust a relative stranger because I recognized that this person was trust-worthy. Maybe it was that whole "when the student is ready the teacher will appear" thing. Trust capacity was growing ... what I was really working on was how to trust God ... it may sound a little weird, but think about it ... if I am unable to trust what is seen,
how will I know how to access trust when it's really important ... with the unseen. Whether we choose to acknowledge it or not, there is more going on then meets the eye ... we all know that is true. I touch the hot stove and I burn my little hand. Now I have a burnt hand and maybe receive the comfort of a salve and hopefully receive the message of don't touch a hot stove, and maybe even learn to pay heed to warnings in general ... or I may miscue the experience and just be afraid of the kitchen ... or warmth may make me uncomfortable ... or any number of possibilities.

This is a representation of the last day I worked on trust with that particular trustbuddy.
He said,"Stop acting like a woman." Those words were some of his baggage spilling out. I knew a tiny bit about his baggage ... he carried his load on his back ... like a warrior. You couldn't help but notice it ... and make room for it (as long as it stayed zippered in). The deal with those words shouldn't have been a big deal, but, those words strung together by that person delivered on that day and in the context in which they were spoken ... those words sliced through me like a whip cutting in to that very vulnerable spot where trust was beginning to grow. I







had allowed myself to vulnerable ... and I felt it big time. So what did I do? As quickly as I could ... I pulled my preferred weapon out and drew back as far as I could ... and the poison tipped arrows flew swift and true. There weren't any winners that day.

I couldn't take my part of that day back. I would have wished every blown out candle on every birthday cake I get to wish on from here on ... if a wish could erase my part in that day. It would have been so much easier for me to deal with it had I not returned fire. It was very hard to see myself as that instinctively hateful. And over what? Some words ... !?! (By the way, I actually like being a woman, but even if I didn't, that's pretty much the hand I was dealt.) I slept with the sorrow that I was unable to express for my actions that day. I stood in that place where the hatefulness was collected ... and saved ... just in case I thought I needed them to keep myself safe. I spent time right there in the place where those ugly words found their mark. Because of the days that delivered that day, and the days that came after that day ... I decided not to do that again ... load up hateful soul tearing words and callously take aim.

Recently I had another chance to talk ugly ... real ugly. I knew the most damaging words to say, and I seemed to have nothing to gain from not letting them fly. I could even rationalize that they were appropriate ... the truth administered with justifiable malice. Just me taking care of myself.
I wrote about that wanker who seemed to enjoy taking swipes at me in my post about the recent day that I dreaded. He, himself, wasn't important to me, but he was able to keep something that I thought was important away from me. He knew what he was doing. I dreaded losing what I thought of as my place out there. I dreaded letting it go without taking a few well placed shots at the guy. I toyed with the idea that not talking some mean talk would make me look weak. I know some things that I could have
said that would have sucked the air right out of his blown up pompous self ... poison pointed ugly words. Pointless weak words, not strong words. Tearing down words. Useless words meant to salve my ego ... but they wouldn't have.

That shameful day, when I didn't make room for a buddy who was having a very bad day of his own ... I started learning a little bit about humility and love that day ... and shortly after the experiences summarized in that day, I started noticing some golden threads of trust were appearing in my blanket.

That day might be one if the ten best days.