Writing inspiration Click to see this photo's flickr page
I have started this post in my mind a number of times during the past few months. When I get tempted to be vengeful and strike back at what’s been sitting on me, weighing me down, I just stop. I’ve read anger, venom spewed out publicly, and, you know, it’s just hurtful. Yup.
The best I can describe the past few months is that, well, some times, you just don’t feel like sharing. Not that there’s anything particularly personally sensitive going on, but you just feel like hunkering down, way out in the middle of no where, and not have to talk about anything to anyone. Ever have a day like that? Yeah? I’ve had a good 4 or 5 months worth of it.
To be honest, I’ve considered a number of times just quitting the blog, as well. Not just stopping it, but taking the whole thing off-line. I’ve had to think on why people blog, why I blog, what I want, where this is going.
In the beginning, I recall wanting to share the silly everyday-ness with friends who had moved away. Along the way, I discovered a few of things: the friends visited my blog with decreasing regularity. And when I’d get very pensive, they’d shy away; they prefer the silly goofiness, or were maybe just more comfortable responding to it. The other thing I discovered, though, is that I’ve met people along the way, quite by accident sometimes, that would read my words and ponder along, at least for part of the way, with me. I know also that I have a deep need to be heard. I say that again: I need to be heard. The problem with being a really good, empathetic listener is that people feel even more comfortable to talk at/with you. And talk. Oh heck, they’ll talk right over you. Talk, talk, talk. And they often forget to stop to listen. So, I found and still find myself writing, and thinking, and writing more. I don’t know that I’m writing for any particular cause, other than to now keep in touch with the other strong, yet sensitive souls that I’ve connected with. I need to be heard. The naysayers, the critics, those who have lost interest, those a little too sheepish, unwilling or just plain unable to engage in deeper conversation, they persist. But, the greater truth is I have found, one by one, good, patient people who will stop and listen, share and connect. They hear, and they hear me. And, boy, isn’t that what counts?
I have kept up reading my bloggy buddies’ blogs (say that 5 times fast!), but I have missed keeping them up with me. I’ve been micro-blogging, 140 characters at a time, on Twitter. I’ve found some exceptional nice people there. I’ve been drawing and collaging, taking photos, and posting on Flickr, as well, and I’ve found some exceptionally creative, talented people there, too. I feel a bit remiss, knowing that when they click over to this blog, there’s really been nothing new here; just a long, uncertain pause.
In many ways, I hope that The FridgeDoor is successful in celebrating the everyday acts that we do, the simple acts of grace, the small steady stream of words of encouragement that we share, the thoughts we have that are remarkably great and significant, unexpectedly mixed in with all the seemingly trivial details our routines. At its best, though, I think it’s also a letter – a love letter – to those that do stop in, to read and look at the images up close, and then sit for with me, and with you, a bit and share the inspiration, or even just actively share the silence. [shrug]
So I have to keep at the blog, if not for them, for me, because I need to keep thinking and pondering and writing, scheming and sighing all at the same time. I keep at the blog because I deeply cherish the companionship of these friends, close and very far away. I can’t be there, but we can share a virtual cuppa' coffee, right? I saw a couple of you nod, “Yup”. And if I had biscotti, I’d share one with you.
Much thanks. xox, -w