Sunday, November 28, 2010

Getting back on the horse (pre-#reverb10)

I haven't blogged in weeks. I think I'm developing a bit of a block.

I'm tired. All this translating into words, it can make my brain hurt. I think I need a break from thinking.

But I don't give myself a break. I don't really know how. Lately, the acts of writing fiction and thinking about systemic community issues have crowded out any self-reflective time I might have previously indulged.

I find myself thinking, what do I think I have to offer these people who are kind enough to visit my thoughts with me? Is what I'm thinking, ultimately, too rudimentary to be bothered capturing it at all? In any case, can I spare the time?

I'm going to publish this meander just to get back on the horse. Maybe soon the act of writing myself will engage me again. I've followed some friends into #reverb10  which I can let discipline me into at least a few lines of reflection each day. I look forward to sharing them.

This person is under construction. Thank you for your patience.


  1. Something that always moves me, about your thoughts and the way you share them, here and on Twitter, is how human they are, how human you are. Sometimes it embarrasses me, even, and I sometimes don't respond, sometimes afraid I will not be able to be as real in return. I regret my silence and my embarrassment, I feel that way a lot in general, especially on Twitter. Hopefully that will wear away for me, over time.

    But what I think you invite, MrsWhich, is a long succession of individual moments of us. You invite people to join with you, for a moment, for an instant. To stop, for a moment, to be, and to be human - these clumsy, awkward and blessed beings that we are. Human together, holding hands, across the unknown, in that moment, in that instant.

    And I wonder: Perhaps asking if your thoughts are too rudimentary to be bothered capturing, may not be the point, exactly.

    First, because those moments are rudimentary. They need to be, in order to serve as our meeting ground. And second, because it's not about your thoughts at all. It's about the moments when it's our thoughts being noticed, sat with, recognized, exchanged hand to hand, and returned back to their giver, a little less tired, a little less sore, a little more gracious, a little more loving. They are rudimentary because we are rudimentary, us clumsy humans that we are. And what a relief to not have to try to be other than that.

    Are those moments worth it, those moments when the veil of the unknown is thinned, just a little; when we can touch us, just a little; when we can perhaps feel less alone, even if just a little?


    Those moments are sacred.

    As ordinary but as necessary as breath.

    We're all under construction.

    And all we can ever offer each other is patience.

    But ultimately, rudimentarily, that's all we need.

  2. Yeah... I get that.

  3. I feel much the same and still on the fence about reverb10...and yes, we are all under construction aren't we?

  4. Karen, you move me by meeting me.


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