I realize that today marks the one year anniversary from when I first set up this blog and clicked “publish.” Looking back, it was May 13 of 2009 that I became “self-published.” I am toying with the idea of self-publishing my Privilege of Parenting book, and I now look back to see the organic nature of the journey into standing for what we stand for and coming to value process above outcome or product.
It strikes me as amusing now that I routinely, even blithely, craft a post and send it out there to strike a chord, perplex, fall flat or whatever else might happen that it is as natural as any other part of my life; I have made friends in this world and dropping by your different blogs is like taking a walk down some virtual Main Street somewhere between Atticus Finch’s place and Holden Caulfied’s, sometimes stopping for a dip in Gatsby’s pool, sometimes by Norma Desmond’s… sometimes chatting with new friends across the pond altogether. I realize that a year ago I came to the party with sweaty palms and now I’m feeling really happy that I didn’t just stay in bed with a book.
When I first threw my message in a bottle into the virtual sea, I recall feeling rather nervous, sweaty and sick is more like it—like throwing a party to which no one at all might come; like stepping onto a stage where the rowdy mean kids might throw things and mock you back into the abashed silence to which you had been long accustomed. If nothing else I have been sincere about what I have tried to say in this space, and I have been heartened by how many people have been just plain nice and encouraging, including those who read without commenting. In a way I feel like I am learning not just what my voice is, but also how better to listen, as well as how to hear what is not actually said (I have years of practicing this in my consulting room, but to try to do it in a wider, if still quiet, manner has been interesting for me)—coming to trust that blogging can be like parenting in which you don’t give to get, and yet you get so much in unexpected ways.
In some wakey wakey Finnegan begin again sort of way, I realize how everything is a circle, how we are all at once sublime and ridiculous, how we all team with songs and novels and architecture and wonderment and longing and gratitude and animal-like equanimity and brokenness and alienation and togetherness and hope and dread and more than we can ever say… but not more than we can ever love.
Now that I have said most of the things that I wanted to say about parenting (but not all), I find myself more and more interested in simply telling stories; and also in exploring the community that we spontaneously form here amongst us bloggers, readers, commentators, emailers, etc. More than anything I find myself more and more open to the shifting tides of what just is—sharing of ourselves in the service of creative unfolding, and in the service of all our collective “children” (which includes us grown-ups, animals and everything else in the unified field from which we cannot absent ourselves no matter what we do with our limited consciousness). I know that I’m really happy that you are here too.
For you who blog, did you feel nervous when you posted your first missive into the great unknown? And do you now really call it as you see it, or do you think, “How will this go over? How will this come across?” Are there things you feel yourself working up to expressing? And if so, what, if anything, can we do to make it ever safer to let down our masks to better and more softly glimpse and honor that eternally pulsing soul that connects us all, that constitutes our expanded and most luminescent and alive collective SELF?
Namaste yesterday, tomorrow and today, Bruce
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I’ve only been blogging about 4 months now, but I already couldn’t imagine my life without it. Yes, I totally understand what you mean about throwing it out there to see what sticks. I’ve had posts that I thought would draw tears, or ire go totally uncommented on, and posts that I thought were nothing grab attention …
When I first started … I was nervous and apprehensive. But I needed this. I needed it not for posterity, or even as an avenue to share. I needed it to be able to let go. My first posts felt, to me, like I was standing on a street corner shouting at the world like some nut job, daring anyone and everyone to come tell me what I was doing was wrong because it was too far outside the norm.
Instead what I found was a growing group of people who have made different decisions, had different experiences, but in the end they have come to the same corner. And now we share our stories with anyone who will listen, be they passers by or people setting up their own camps.
I’m glad of it. I still blog mostly because I need to shout (sometimes loudly, sometimes less so), but I cherish the comments from the other bloggers and from my non bloggy readers.
Namaste!
Yes, such an interesting world taking shape—and it’s nice to be part of something, even if it’s on a virtual street corner :)
Namaste to you as well
I have only published 13 blogs since March. I was not nervous but I do not think I really thought about the blog world. I was trying to write not be a part of a blog world. Sometimes now, I find myself looking for comments, and I did not intend to be like that. It has surprised me. There are definite communities of bloggers, which is nice , but difficult to feel like you are a part of it and frankly it bothers me that it bothers me(if that makes any sense) because that was not my purpose. I have said this before but I really feel like there is a lot of complaining going on and I do not embrace that so I am unsure how I fit into this world. I think I should just ignore the response and write for the love of writing. Anyhow, Bruce, I think you are a breath of fresh air in this writing community. Every time I read your pieces it makes me feel uplifted and a part of something greater. Happy One year anniversary!
Hi Joely, I think that it’s great that you’re putting yourself out there, but mostly exploring your voice as a writer. I think it will be interesting for you to see how you feel and what you experience as your journey continues in this realm.
Thanks for the kind words, and for letting me hear from you.
However you publish your book, I’ll be first in line to read it!
Very “Flight of the Conchords,” I love it—even if you end up being the ONLY reader it was only ever about the music anyway :)
Bruce I too am happy you didn’t just stay in bed and read a book. Your blog has been a wonderful place for me to sit for a moment and visit. My goal is to be at least a quarter dedicated to my own blog as you are to yours. THANK YOU and happy anniversary. Are you celebrating by cleaning your keyboard?
How could you tell that my keyboard wasn’t looking so great? Along the way I even lost my number one and exclamation point, so I have to cut and paste those (casualties of blogging).
In the future I’m looking forward to writing a bit less and reading a bit more—so maybe that will help maintain your inspiration as we all move forward together into this present situation, this interesting time.
Hey, and thanks for kind words.
Your writing always hits me at my core. I find so many truths. Such insight. Such reverence. I feel similarly, about this blog world. We at Momalom are just a few months older than you, and we have found more than we ever envisioned. A community. Inspiration. A place to explore what it is we really feel. What it is we want to say. We trip. We tumble. We stand. We sing out. And there always is someone out there cheering us on. While I hope you do get a chance to read books in bed, too, I am grateful for your presence here.
You guys also rock, and you inspire, and you model, and you invite, and you challenge, and you invite.
And as for tripping and tumbling, so long as we’re kind and all in it together, even that is kind of fun and an ongoing growth experience.
Thanks for including me in the magic that you guys have managed to conjure, and in the community we are continually creating.
I do hope it somehow serves all our collective children as much as it seems to nourish and serve each other.
Namaste
I’ve had my blog for two years, which should give you a good idea how much I was blogging into the wilderness with no one reading me for most of that time! A year ago, after a hiatus, I brought it active again, eventually connecting with this incredible community. One of my writing teachers said that writers have to have an Internet presence and I’ve found that it’s been really important for me in so many ways.
From a writing standpoint, I can write an essay with humor or without, fast and 2-3 times a week! From a career standpoint, it’s meant a lot when pitching my work to editors to be able to point to the blog as an example of my work. But the most important thing has been what it’s meant to me to be a part of a community of friends who are so supportive and nurturing, to have made real friends indeed in an unlikely place.
Yes, it’s great to meet, connect and support each other to find our voices, pursue our writerly ambitions (whatever they may be) and be part of a nourishing and interesting community.
“I realize how everything is a circle, how we are all at once sublime and ridiculous, how we all team with songs and novels and architecture and wonderment and longing and gratitude and animal-like equanimity and brokenness and alienation and togetherness and hope and dread and more than we can ever say… but not more than we can ever love.”
I just keep reading and re-reading these words. There is something so magical about this bloggy metropolis we all inhabit … there is a magnetism between and among us, drawing us together, drawing us in, but at the same time, pushing us out, beyond ourselves, to be more than ourselves. As I write these words, I am aware at how silly they might seem to someone who has never been here, to our Main Street. I could never have imagined the deep sense of community – and support! – I would find through my blog. I have told my husband several times that I often feel as though I have more in common with my bloggy buddies than I do with my real world friends (I struggled with the word to put before “friends” there – because my blog buds are no less “real” than my non-blog friends. But “brick and mortar friends” didn’t seem quite right… :))
But your post is only peripherally about community. The questions you raise about putting ourselves out there, speaking our truth without fear or reservation, these are important questions. I’ve found that I’m able to be honest in my posts in a way I didn’t expect. I expected that I would feel pressure to be neat and tidy about my emotions and experiences… but I quickly discovered that neat and tidy aren’t so important in this world. And yet, I of course know that my posts will be read as examples of my writing, and that by posting them, I have made my words permanent (at least until I take them down!) So there is constant pressure to be witty and original and clever and smart. Would it be better if we didn’t feel that pressure? If we could just sit down and spew whatever bubbles up? I don’t know. I don’t think. I think there’s value in the fact that blogging, while similar to talking, is still an act of writing. I guess I want it to feel like a writer’s world not just a talker’s world. But then again, that’s probably because I fancy myself a writer. :)
Good stuff here, Bruce. And thanks so much for your kind and meaty comment on ETD yesterday! Truly.
Hi Lauren, Yes, I resonate to all you say. This five-for-ten week is buzzing with extra energy and excitement as we emerge together into this very real and yet fantastical space where we are free to express and also be interested in each other, perhaps most of all interested in being part of this group wave consciousness of compassion and the song-singing of the soul—vivifying times here, for us, in contrast to what has often been, for many of us, a too-often dead and soulless “real” world. I don’t think we’re escaping into this world, I think we’re working to bring soul back out into the “Our Town” of our multi-worlded lives.
Namaste (and All Good Wishes for your novel, a story and also something that is new)
Happy Blogiversary. In a couple of weeks I’ll celebrate six years of blogging. It is an incredible experience that has given me more than I have given it.
New friends, a better understand of myself and the world around me. Really just an invaluable experience.
Six years… hat’s off to you. Namaste
Time moves quickly when you enjoy what you are doing.
I would also wish you a happy anniversary. The traditional present for the first
anniversary is paper. There is something to say about that and your book which
has become your blog. Thank you for all you offer.
Cheers krk
Paper in an increasingly paperless world… maybe one day writers will talk of paper the way one speaks of mana? Cheers to you as well :)