I want to talk to You about the amount of “self” there is in my writing. First, I think to myself that if I did not write to You I’d be barring the door at which You are knocking. My “self” does not want to give up the possibilities inherent in answering that knock. This, of course, assumes that You would not find another way to touch me and that, of course, assumes that the way I have found is the best or only way.
Second, I am thinking that, in effect, I am writing these letters to myself. I don’t think that it’s possible for this to be totally untrue. But what I hope is that what You whisper to me through these letters nourishes not the false self which I build on from the ego up, but the true self, the nucleus of my being which is and always will be my genuine connection with You.
Third, I’m thinking that the desire to share these letters is a proof of the self of which there is too much in these letters. How much vanity there is in thinking anyone but You would be interested in what I have to say! The only reason I should even begin to think I have anything to offer is because I believe the really insightful stuff comes from You, not me, and I’m just sharing what You’ve given me.
Looking back at what I just wrote above I could easily say that it’s all an attempt to rationalize the me that tends to assert itself and value itself in what it writes. Maybe this is so. Maybe I’m putting myself above others by assuming that I might be able to give people insights they don’t have. But here’s the thing: what I write is the background against which I see You. The wall behind the altar of a local church is exactly the same color as the host. When it is elevated it is almost invisible. But during Christmas time there are large fir trees behind the altar giving a dark green background. At the elevation the host is clearly visible. The background against which we see You is very important.