I am reflecting on the act of blog. when I emailed my sister that I was going to start blogging she responded with "I hate to admit it but I have no idea what blogging is." I had to laugh but only for a moment because I didn't know what it was until a year ago and it has taken me this long to get around to trying it. It amazes me how something begins in a culture, like a new buzz word, bling-bling, or a new fashion, or the sudden urge to go buy an SUV when you never really wanted one. Or to blog. The phenomenon started in our house with Daniel. At 16 he has already been involved in cyber community for a few years. I have always considered myself a pretty hip mom but I didn't really get the concept of blogging. At first. Then I started reading. Reading other peoples blogs made me understand a bit more, and as a parent, being able to read your kid's blog, well that's just great. You get a different perspective on them as a person. It's cool.
So here I am. I know enough to realize that in our isolation we crave community, and blog seems to feed some of that craving. But it is funny. I struggle with it a little because at first it seems so arrogant. Who the heck is going to read this? Who do I think I am talking to? I have gotten wrapped up in those questions and it stopped me from doing it. Self publish. Is that the goal? To many questions. The kind that occur when a new form of something hits the scene and not everybody buys in at first. Wasn't it like that when the first automobiles came out? So here I am left standing in the road.
Well, part of what I didn't get was how people found the time. And yet I have been dogging myself for a year to do "morning pages". This is an exercise done to stimulate the artistic brain suggested by Julie Cameron author of The Artist's Way. So in order to justify the time taken to blog I am making it my "morning pages". Even though in Julie's world these pages are meant to be in longhand, and that no one is suposed to read them. Oh well.
So here I jump. Into the rushing stream that once was just a trickle. Hoping that if there are any rapids they aren't acompanied by jagged rocks of criticism. I will add my tiny drops to the drops of others and as they combine my hope is that the ocean that is created washes us with greater tolerance, patience and love. Did somebody start to play a violin? Or maybe it was Moby.
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