I keep forgetting about how true this is. "Self-consciousness, however does hinder the experience of the present. It is the one instrument that unplugs all the rest. So long as I lose myself in a tree, say I can scent it's leafy breath or estimate its board feet in lumber, I can draw its fruits or boil tea on its branches, the tree stays a tree. But the second I become aware of myself at any of these activities-looking over my own shoulder, as it were - the tree vanishes, uprooted from the spot and flung out of sight as if it had never grown. And time, which had flowed down into the tree bearing new revelations like floating leaves at every moment, ceases. It dams, stills, stagnates. Self-consciousness is the curse of the city and all that sophistication implies. It is the glimpse of oneself in a storefront window, the unbidden awareness of reactions on the faces of other people- the novelist's world, not the poet's."- from A Pilgrim At Tinker Creek, by Annie DillardI've been realizing that I bring up the same issues over and over...they're comfortable, they're familiar. I'm not ready to branch out of these yet, because I sort of know how to deal with (or at least talk about) such issues as self-conciousness. If I truely were to let go and let God...I'd be running the risk of tackling a new topic of resistance. I am the slowest of all human beings.I will end this with a scene and quote created by friend Elena. She and I sat talking about the practice of living deeply. When a pestering fly rested on her knee, she swatted, missed and said after some delay : "Dammit, I wish I were fast."I wish I were fast too.