If only

This post was imported from an old wordpress.com blog I used to have.

I have had this book on my bookshelf for over 15 years. I’ve started reading it a few times, but never gotten very far. And yet I can’t bring myself to toss it, recycle it, sell it or give it away, even though that’s what’s become of hundreds of books that I’ve owned in this time period.

I’m a big believer in helping yourself, but I cringe at the term “self-help.” But I bought this book for a reason, and I’ve hung on to it all these years for a reason. So why haven’t I ever gotten through it? It’s not that long. And why can’t I let it go?

I think deep down I believe that I need it. Or something like it.

Is it possible that this silly yellow book could be the key, or even just one of many, that might help me unlock the chains that have been holding me back all of my life? The idea of that is just too scary. I’m afraid of this yellow book. I’m afraid that either it will not help and I will continue to fumble around in the darkness, trying to figure out what I really want, or that it will work and then what? What lies beyond me figuring out what I really want?

I pulled this book off of the bottom of the bookshelf tonight. I opened it and started reading. And I recognized myself in the first few pages. Hope bloomed. And I immediately stopped reading and got on my computer and started typing.

What does that mean? And what happens next?