I miss blogging. Terribly so. Primarily, I miss the old days and the old gang. We networked the hell out of the blogosphere and built spaces that buzzed with creative work. Many people I met online during that time (for me, beginning in 2004, I think) became — and still are — some of the most important people in my life.
All that creative nurturing was not only a boost to my poetry but also a big push to start a whole new life. I am now, several years later, still writing. However, post-divorce and post-MFA, I have to confess I am not as joyful about it as I used to be. In addition, it has a bunch of fear attached to it. I know some, but not all, of the reasons for this, and an older version of myself wouldn’t have rested until I got to the bottom of it. But right now, I have no urge to sort it out. I just want to release it.
A large part of releasing the fear is letting go of the pressure I put on myself and the stress of worrying about what other people think. I’m told these things come easier with age. And for the first time in a long time (OK, honestly, for *the* first time), I’m just watching it unfold. I’m sitting in a middle space.
Just. Sitting. Without waiting for anything. Without even wanting anything in particular. Without figuring what’s next. Without detailing the process for getting there. As much as possible, I’m breathing and listening to the universe. And you know what? For the first time in a long time, I’m inspired.
This blog post isn’t the product of me berating myself because I’d abandoned the damn thing for too long. It isn’t the product of me saying, “Well, Carolee, you know you should…” Instead, it’s the result of being inspired by what I’m hearing around me.
For example, Marie Gauthier’s writing at her blog again, and I’m really enjoying reading. Marie’s “A View from the Potholes” is inspiring me because she’s having the kinds of conversations I want to have in the world again. And in mid-September, Collin Kelley posted this on his blog, “Modern Confessional:”
Without a doubt, most people have discovered my work thanks to the Internet. I’ve grown accustomed to waiting weeks, months and longer for new work to appear in journals, but there is some work I want to put out right now. I don’t want to wait.
I love you all dearly, and while I’m interested in the politics we rage about on Twitter and although I want to be there to wish you the happiest of birthdays on Facebook, I’m energized by what’s really going on in our lives (the deep down stuff, the tender spots, Marie’s “potholes”) and by the work (its immediacy, its freshness, Collin’s refusal to wait). That’s the joy I used to find in blogging and engaging with creative folks online.
The universe has lots to tell me about other areas of my life, too, and I’m listening. And probably those areas are more consequential than blogging. Maybe I’ll write about those things soon. Or maybe not. I’ve been thinking about returning to blogging for a while, but I’ve been afraid to commit. I’ve been afraid of being inconsistent (again). I’ve been hesitant to move forward without a purpose for it. But I’m letting it go.
I may write here again tomorrow or next week or after another 7-month hiatus. I don’t know. Part of this “return” to blogging, if that’s what it is, will likely include poems. I like the balance Collin seems to be striking. For now, in terms of what’s happening here, I’m just channeling my inner Napolean Dynamite:
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