I open the book and stare. I feel it stare right back. Maybe, whatever is around us is staring too.
The page is what it is — blank. My state of being is giving it meaning. Right now, it seems menacing and i wish to hide. In that blankness, are opportunity, choice, hardship and whatever else i wish to ascribe to it.
I do not ask the page for its own views. I am still to learn how to interact with it.
For now, the page is a page is a page and every word is a choice. I can learn to be friends with it or i can treat it as the enemy forcing me to make a choice.
I do neither. I sit. Facing it. And breathe. Again. And again.
The page seems a mirror of my own self.
I focus on the breath. I know i will get out of my own way.