Like the collage? You can buy it here "Be not simply good," Thoreau tells us, "be good for something."
Which leads me to thinking about my blog. And wondering why I do it (or don't lately). And what it's good for. Or not.
I started it a year and a half ago to ... to ... well ... break out of a rut, I guess. To try on a different life. A writer's life. An artist's life. A life of text and image, a daily (or so) exercise in illuminating the world around me ... and within. And, for a while, it was a beautiful way to start the day: Looking out the window, sipping a cup of joe, and letting my fingers express my thoughts. Then came groups and challenges. Explorations and sharing.
Sunday Scribblings.
Inspire Me Thursdays.
One Deep Breath.
Photo Fridays. I felt heady with creativity and awareness. Growth and knowledge. New skills. New eyes. New thoughts.
But ... but ... school ends eventually, yes?
The challenges began to take on the weight of a chore to be completed. Or I was too busy elsewhere. Or I wasn't sure why I was doing them anymore.
When I read other blogs, I began to feel as I did when I was a kid: I just didn't fit in.
I saw a cartoon once that perfectly illustrated my ... well ... my
me-ness. There was a man in the first image, sitting in a chair, with the word THINK above him. In each of the next cells of the cartoon, there were more versions of THINK until the man was completely obliterated by the word. Thinking one's self to death.
Is that possible? You're probably nodding yes right now. Whoever you are. And why-ever you're reading this. If you're still reading this.
Sigh. See what I mean?
I'm not a diarist. Not a journaler of my thoughts. I'm not going to chronicle my day or talk about my job. It's not that I don't value those things on other blogs. It's just not me. I want to share my thoughts ... my images ... engage in conversation ... in depth and thought and hope and ... what? I'm not sure.
Why does blogging feel so lonely to me these days? Is it that I don't get many comments? A friend of mine in another state, who reads my blog daily, says it's narcissistic of me to think that I haven't connected with others just because they don't comment. "I never comment," he says. Yeah, I know, I thought to myself.
But I don't really want just comments. Maybe that's the problem. I want
conversation. Stimulation. Agreement or disagreement. Engagement. I don't want to just be saying, "Look at me. I'm part of pop culture too."
Yep, we're back to thinking.
Probably this ain't the place for it. Or maybe I'm just not the blogger to inspire it.
I don't know.
I don't even know why I'm writing this. Or why I'll click "Publish Post." Or what I'll think if I don't (or do) get comments. Maybe it's time to try something new.
I did open the door, after all. Maybe now it's time to take a deep breath and walk through.