Forty-four hours after sending the email, and I had not heard from him. Now, I sent the email on a Saturday afternoon and it’s just 1 pm on Monday, but my lizard brain was squirming with the flight response.
I was looking for a way out.
“Maybe it went to spam. “Maybe he thinks I’m crazy or he really doesn’t like me.”
Oh, the stories I can conjure up on behalf of a non-response.
Then, there is the other side, the side ready to be a beginner, to learn, to grow, to practice and to fail. I have no dreams of glory. I do have dreams of greater mental discipline, greater physical control and better health. I have dreams of not freezing up every time I’m in the middle of a conflict. I dream of this new scary venture with anticipation and hope.
Perhaps this is what every new venture holds--promise and fear, hope and anticipation.
Maybe I’ll meet some new people on a similar journey. Maybe these people will become friends? Maybe I’ll find a new refuge for mind and body along with the others I’ve developed in daily meditation and writing.
Maybe I’ll just get mangled.
At the moment, it’s all a dream, or a nightmare, waiting on an email reply.