The Writings Of Tao Writer – A Meeting With Myself

Tao Writer (April 17, 1948 -)

It’s been a while since I had a meeting with myself. I don’t understand why a meeting with me is so difficult to schedule. I’m easy to find. We see each other every day when we look into the mirror. We have the same amount of time as everyone else. I make all the entries in our calendar but somehow we don’t seem to get enough time alone together. O’ yea, we have the obligatory get together once a year around our birthday but last year you were in a new relationship and I was out wandering the universe somewhere. So our meeting was brief. It was not one of our more intimate meetings where we sit across the table from one another and talk for hours.


Are you avoiding me? Are you afraid I might ask you those probing, penetrating questions which only someone with my insight of you could ask? Are you afraid your answers will surprise you, push you farther away from yourself; that stranger across the table? I remember the last time we talked you wanted to get up and leave yourself behind. You pretended that our words were an echo from someone else’s life, not ours. Do you remember? I pushed the table aside so there would be nothing between us and we embraced and merged as one? We promised we would never separate again. Remember?

Anyway, our birthday is coming soon. I’ll treat you to breakfast and you can buy dinner. Let’s spend the day together, talk, and catch up on the last year. Do a kind of walkabout, await our instructions, and make plans. Maybe we could walk on the beach, sit and listen to the ocean, watch the sunset, and just hang out.

I love you.

Photo Credit: Chop Suey (1929) by Edward Hopper (July 22, 1882 – May 15, 1967)