Simon said the other day, after reading the blog as he got ready for bed in Zambia (which is where his bed is these days), "You lead a funny sort of double life."
I knew what he meant. I spend my days in tightly choreographed motion (dance would imply far more grace than this reality of mine): I am easily overwhelmed by it all. I feel like I am guiding a suspect dinghy through deep waters and bailing for all I am worth without even knowing the first thing about nautical-type stuff. We have children who are at various stages in their lives, all of them demanding. Tomorrow I have meetings at the school regarding special concerns for two of them. We are active participants in not one, but two, Baha'i communities. I still have to manage things like laundry and food for everyone and keeping a clean house. And I am a full-time student with a very heavy course load. So. There is that. It is real and often messy (if not downright ugly), and generally not easy to either document or share. Becasue really, a lot of it has to do with issues of privacy, and also, how do I take photos of draft three of the same chapter of an unfinished book? Should I honestly be discussing the ins and outs of quantitative corpus analysis and situational charactersitics? Plate techtonics? Not so much?
Which all means that what you see here, in this space, is a sliver, a wedge, a small portion of the days and events that form our days. It is, I dare say, the very nature of the medium.
Lately, I have been wondering about this space. I'm not all that happy with it, to be honest. The design is tired. The comments few and far between.
But. Here's the thing: if I blog things here, it means I have noticed them. It means I have found some bits and pieces in the whirlwind of days to linger over, to hold tight, to record because I just can't bear to forget them. It ensures that the moments of joy and beauty are remembered and acknowledged.
It works both ways, too. If I'm not taking any photos, if words aren't coming, I know things just aren't right in my world. It helps me seek these things out, even when I am sure it is quite impossible.
So here I am, in a funny corner of the internet, perched on a fugly design in dire need of updating, not sure who is even out there, but glad to be here. I'll keep on bailing. Because in the end, it is worth it. And all the friends who I happen to bump into in this leaky old dinghy of mine? An incredible, unexpected pleasure that brightens even the darkest of my days. Consider yourselves the life jackets that appeared from nowhere, or a bird swooping overhead, or the dizzying diamonds of bright sunlight between breaks in the cloud, or some other equally lovely, metaphor appropriate thing.
Well. I'm not entirely sure where any of this came from. But here it is. And now I must run off to class, so I haven;t even spell-checked. Yikes!
(Oh, and also-- spring in Oregon is spectacular):