Ride home

I witnessed an explosive, emotional encounter today that brought tears to my eyes. I walked out of my "day job" saddened by what had transpired. It had nothing to do with me, but I had a front row seat and it was ugly. I hate to see intelligent, good people feeling frustrated and trapped and not heard. I long to see real, productive, honest communication in the workplace sometimes. It seems so rare. Don't people understand what a difference that could make?

I walked to the subway pondering the mess I'd left. I sat on the train and fished my battered copy of A Room of One's Own out of my purse and began reading chapter 3. It is written in such a frank, no-nonsense tone and it is just so illuminating and wise that I became quickly absorbed. Near the end of the chapter, as we pulled into Hoboken, I read a line that made me laugh out loud:

Literature is strewn with the wreckage of men who have minded beyond reason the opinions of others.

Thank you, Virginia Woolf. I needed that.