Late Spring has proven a bit blog-dull as I haven't posted in a while. I began this blog in an effort to share a bit of our daily life with loved ones near and far. I began this blog because after an ugly divorce, public journaling became the only way I could write. I began this blog because I wanted to slow down the fast-forward moments of everyday life...to pause and treasure the mundane, the ordinary, the common-place. I began this blog for many reasons and now I find myself asking if those same reasons apply for continuing it. I am in the self reflection process right now, reinvisioning my relationship to the cyber media and how I would like to see it evolve or not evolve. Occasionally, I feel like a blog lends itself to a onesided reflection of life or self (particularly when I read the inviable blogs of others, oozing with creativity) . We rarely post photos of the many hair tearing moments, or post about the many airballs, stumbles and jostles of humanhood. And yet it is the whole picture that is truly beautiful...the guts and the glory... the sticky, dirty grime and the flowering, blossoming radiance. It is the union of these that provides the basic warp and weft of life. I am trying to find balance, while treasuring the beauty in each moment... the muddy child who poops in his pants rather than leave the treasure trove of dirt and water he has discovered, the flower blossoming in agonizing splendor, a body struggling toward health, a ten year old growing up achingly fast, a fabulous man seeking to discover himSelf, and my own imperfectly evolving self who continues to surprise, disappoint, astound and inspire. Yes, all these and a life so filled with beauty that I ache to remove the blinders of self to see it clearly.
When everything looks bleak and the darkness cramps against the cold, it takes courage to simply look out from imagined isolation toward the wide horizon of beauty available in every moment. It takes courage to lean into the sea of life and trust the tide. When weary limbs no longer support us, it takes courage to trust our inner buoyancy and float. It takes courage, in the face of darkness, to remember the light and sit in all our apparent blindness and listen, silently, to the still, small whisper within. It takes courage, in that dark hour, when nothing else remains. Eyes closed. Eyes opened. A glimpse, a memory, a fleeting vision of a light so bright it blurs the borders of things seen and things perceived into a comprehensive wholeness of being. It takes courage.
Comments