I used to be afraid to ask questions.
Would I hurt someone's feelings? Would I be out of line?
There was an actual dread to whatever could come out of asking a question.
Now, I still recognize the ghost of that fear, sometime. It's familiar and it wants me to believe that it's real.
So I talk to it. I look at it in its beady little eyes and tell it that I am the boss, and not only that but that I am not alone. That asking a question and being ready for an answer is okay.
Then I take a breath, I connect with my heart, and I ask.
You can ask too.
SCARED OF THE SACRED