Oprah is a wimp.  So is Maya Angelou.

Okay, let me explain those inflammatory statements.

In her recent 10th anniversary issue, Oprah answered the question, “After ten years of writing (her monthly column for O magazine), do you know anything else for sure?”

Oprah’s Answer:  “Maya Angelou warned me I shouldn’t do that because it was going to be a pain to come up with something new (to write) every month.  I know for sure:  She was right!”

Humpf.

I’m certainly no Oprah or Maya Angelou, but if I sit with it for a few moments, there’s always something to write about.  Perhaps it’s because during this time, my focus is here.  Perhaps, I’m not too worried about crafting insight into poetic conclusions.

The only pressure that this blog creates is what I impose on myself — and there have been some unforeseeable ones.

I try not to use this blog as a forum — but I have.

I try not to censor this blog because of suspected readership — but I have.

I try to be honest and brave — but in the process, I’ve also been oblique.

Introspection communicates a tilted view.  It makes me seem like a deep, brooding person with the weight of the world on my shoulders.  Hey, I’m as shallow as they come.  I have a great life and enjoy it, except when I don’t.  This blog is a 20 minute snapshot of my morning meditation, but it’s not my whole day much less my whole life.

I’m wrestling with these things.

But, I’m never at a loss for something to write.

Significantly,

Susan Scot Fry

Update…  Of course I’m never at a loss for something to write.  I lead the most interesting life imaginable.  We all do, we just don’t always realize it.