shutterstock_409402111Last week, my friend “Mary,” whom I will call Mary Yoga because we often meet in yoga class, asked me to send her a link to my website. I sent it as soon as I got home, along with a note about being happy to see her back at yoga that morning.

Later in the day, I got an e-mail in response. “I think this must be for a different Mary. I don’t do yoga. Mary”

I checked the last name associated with the address and realized this was a woman I’ll call Mary Clown because we met at a couple of clowning workshops. My e-mail program had automatically “helped” by filling in her e-mail address and I hadn’t noticed. I thanked her for letting me know and brought her up to date on what I am doing. We hadn’t seen each other in more than a year, and she lives in a far off city. I encouraged Mary Clown to check out my material online.

The next day, I got an email from Mary – assuming it was Mary Y – telling me how much she liked my website. She added, “I have also dabbled in writing – mostly poetry – and have secret (shh) desires to publish… You are/this is an inspiration…”

My response was immediate. “Your secret is safe with me. I look forward to coming to a party when your first poetry is published.” Mary Yoga was an enthusiastic guest at the party I threw when my first article appeared in print.

On Monday, I saw Mary Yoga. She asked, “Wilda, did you send me the link to your website? I haven’t been on my e-mail to check it out.”

“Yes, I sent it Mary, and you responded,” I replied, quietly thinking she was losing it.

When I took out my phone and showed her the e-mail about her having a secret desire to write poetry, she said, “That’s not me. That must be another Mary.”

That afternoon, I e-mailed Mary Clown a mock apology for divulging the secret I had vowed to keep. We agreed my sharing of her e-mail had been a clown moment! She urged me to welcome them.

Keep checking my blog. There may be a pattern here.


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