Vaguebook

It is hard to know how I’ll move forward without being able to work. It’s hard to know who I will be.

A good friend called me out of the blue to say hi and see how I’ve been doing. It was lovely talking with him. And it inspired me to take stock online of who my friends actually are.

I went to my Facebook account, and looked at all my “friends “ there. Now, I do understand that there are algorithms involved, and those control what I see from my Facebook friends. But I also know that if a FB friend wants to contact me, there’s nothing preventing them from doing so. 

So I took a long, hard look at my “friends” list. I noted the names of people on that list who were there for professional reasons, but whom had never interacted with me on the platform. And I deleted — “un-friended” — nearly all of those names. 

This removed over 150 names from my “friends “ list. People who may have been professional contacts, but who were never actually my friends. 

Deleting these names brought me no real sadness. Instead, I was surprised at the relief I felt. Just as I’ve been letting go of professional goals I will now not realize, I’m letting go of names that have been, largely, only that.

I’m still sad about not being able to play guitar, of course, and I probably will be for quite some time. 

But I understand that I cannot sustain the energy, the hustle or the professional persona needed to do this work anymore. So letting go of these names is a part of the bigger letting go, the time of making space for whatever is meant to come in next.

So I remain in the bardo for awhile longer.