According to my Victorian Grimoire, irises are the flower of hope and messages. This has been a week of comings from the blue lifting hopes I thought had been quelled. I'm not sure what to think. I hold my breath. I don't want to talk about these things for fear that it will jinx them, yet I feel like I will burst if I don't. So, have struck a compromise by adopting a write now, post later policy. This allows for the best of both worlds - Talk, yes! Kein ayin hara, no!
I love that expression, kein ayin hara. It appeals to the deep-seated superstition I harbor about sharing good fortune before its certain. That makes for bad mojo this laying of all cards on the table. I like to think that I am a reasonable, rational person (or at least that I have the capacity to be so), but deep down I have this completely irrational fear that if I talk too much about something good, the universe will take it away from me. No one likes a braggart. Being happy too soon only invites heartbreak. Things just seem to go better when kept to myself.