*Since posting this, I’ve had several unsubscribe emails. At first I thought people simply didn’t like the post – it is a bit of a non-post – or the way the last three or four posts have made them feel. Then I had a sinking feeling; I mention below that I don’t want to return to writing regular blog pieces unless I can get back to writing them as well as I’d like to, as well as I used to. I reread the paragraph and suddenly realised I’d made it sound awfully final. Just so you know, it’s the jeremiads I don’t want to keep writing, the long lamentations and explanations about why I’m not writing. I do hope – plan – to return to writing, whether I post regularly or not, and to some healthier blogging, if I can manage it. I’ve tweaked the last paragraph, but thought I’d add this prefix, just in case it still sounds ambiguous. And if you do unsubscribe, please drop me a line and let me know why. It’s all life lessons. This post was important for me; it marks a crossroads as the domain’s up for renewal soon and I really didn’t know how I wanted to take things forward.
They must often change who would be constant in happiness or wisdom. ~ Confucius
I surprised myself by doing a wee bit of painting last week. I’d offered to give my daughter some tips for capturing her features quickly in the self portrait part of her art exam, but I ended up inspired, transfixed, longing to do some ‘proper’ painting of my own again. Here’s the first eye I’ve ever painted; my daughter’s so beautiful, I could paint her all day long! The universe has a canny knack of nudging us with synchronicity, of healing us by reuniting us with our deepest desires to create and share something with love, whether it’s a meal or a beautifully decorated table, a painting, a patch of garden or a piece of poetry or music.
Today I found myself wanting to share the sea-twinkle in my daughter’s eyes. When I master the technology, I’ll post a clip of her singing. Her voice is as warm, clear and sparkling as her eyes.
I’ve not had a great year since the last time we spoke. There have been more funerals than weddings and christenings, more illnesses than recoveries and more redundancies than new ventures. In the last nine months, we’ve been badly affected by floods, ice, a volcano and freakish amounts of snow that brought most of Scotland to a standstill for the second year in a row. If you read my posts last year, you’ll know I have strong feelings about snow and the metaphors it evokes.
If you have the time, please have a look at that post; I just reread it and was stunned by my own quiet strength and faith in humanity. I’ve become almost unrecognisable to myself, and feel, with serene clarity, that if I can’t regain that kind of flow, that ability to find the perfection and learning in every situation, then there’s little point in me returning to regular blogwriting. The only way I’ll get better at writing and have something of value to offer you is if I write more of the kind of pieces I enjoy and fewer of the kind the blogging world tells me I should be writing. No more shoulding all over myself, and no more boring you with jeremiads when I long to get back to writing prose that resonates like a song, something you can enjoy.
I hope you’ll leave a comment so we can reconnect again, but if not, I’ll understand. Best wishes for a prosperous, healthy and happy 2010!