“When the heck are you going to start writing again,” quipped the voice on the other end of the line. You know the one- the friend that not only knows where the proverbial bodies are hidden, but probably helped you bury them as well. “You’ve got a gift, you know. I never understood why you stopped.” 

“I know,” I murmured, “I just haven’t figured out what to write about.”

“Who cares! Stop overthinking it, and just say what you want to say! Who are you writing for, anyway?”

I muttered something else about needing to research if I want to write a book, and what should I choose, I should put it off until the kids are older, and some other uselessness, but I know she’s right. Once I put pen to paper (or finger to phone, as it were), I’m rarely at a loss for words. But I worry. What will people think? What will people say? What if nobody reads it? Or worse- what if they do? 

That’s it, you know. The vulnerability. The nakedness. As much as I love when someone sees me- truly sees me- there is a certain safety in remaining hidden. 

Behind the mask of social politeness I don’t have to show my shortcomings. My faults. But isn’t that like an ostrich sticking his head in the ground and convincing himself he’s hidden? He’s fooling no one but himself. Staying safely behind the mask if someone rejects you, you can convince yourself they were rejecting the mask. They weren’t rejecting you. There’s less vulnerability that way. Less nakedness. Less being known too. Less everything, really.

To be fair, I don’t think I really wear a mask. I’ve always been a what-you-see-is-what-you-get kind of girl. But there is a river that flows through me that not everyone gets to see. Part of that is wise, as we should not just bare our dude pest parts to the casual passerby, but part of that is the part that can touch another soul. Those vulnerabilities that we all have, but pretend not to, until someone finally gives them voice and our inner selves shout a resounding, “Yes!” Perhaps you feel it too?

Sometimes people will reject us anyway, mask or no. There are naysayers in every crowd. But there are encourages too. Like minds and tribe members just waiting to discover the mystery that is me, that is you.

So here’s to honesty. To transparency. To real. To being a little bit undone. To trusting my gut and letting go. Living life with an open heart, and open hands.