Friday, January 10, 2014

1000th Post - 7+ Yrs of What?

At the end of last year I was eye'ing the number of blog posts increasing and wondering whether I would sneak in a few posts, automate a few more Instagram pics/vids just to ratchet up the total to 1000 before the end of the year. But as the number increased and the unique thoughts failed me, I relinquished my desire to crest the millennial mark and just allow it to occur organically. Earlier this week I reviewed some of my earliest posts on this blog and chuckled at some but mostly groaned within at others. The grammar was atrocious (just 7+ years ago), the thoughts not well delivered and the content, well, lacking any substance of which to speak. But tucked away in the archive of past and futile attempts at being insightful was a gem that provided me some hope and comfort (I guess that's why journaling is good and encouraged).  In particular, the quote from Pres. Packer provides a "soothing balm."

Review, remember, contemplate: what do these synonymous words have to do with this blog and my incessant need to write. At the heart of my writing are these action verbs and while I may not express or divulge all of the tumult that churns within my soul, there is quite a lot that I do express. Those close to me that share my plight have the gift of seeing through my admitted opacity and can feel what it is I'm trying to express. Looking over past entries I can see my struggle with adequately expressing just what is going on in my heart. Yet, there is a glimmer of insight, even without fully recalling the context in which it was originally written, that gives me hope for good things to come.

Sure, there were some gloomy times and times where all I expressed was fluff. But isn't that a part of life? Don't we all go through times where fluff is nice and satisfying to a degree and not all feelings have to be fully exultant or deeply tragic?  In writing my novel I noticed, however, that I tend to express things in the extreme. Feelings I projected into the characters were usually one side of the pendulum swing or the other, with little progression towards the extreme. Are my feelings the same? Not usually. I can usually feel a build up of subtle, swelling, increasingly pulsating emotions before a climax of disheartening grief or supreme joy. But the journey is not usually immediate. My writing doesn't always reflect that and it would seem, from reading much of my drivel, that I'm bi-polar in my emotions. Not so, just not so eloquently and effectively expressed.

So what is the big deal with writing anyway? Can't I live and let live? Can't I just placate  the feelings and thoughts I have without having anyone else, including me, read through them, comment, share, or openly berate myself? Some have described the experience as narcissistic but I would argue that certain kinds of writing are anything but vain and self indulgent. The most eloquent expressions I've tried to articulate are raw, meaningful and at times veiled to keep my full expression of love, hate, sorrow, joy held from any would-be readers. I don't wish to fully expose myself in a literary way to draw attention to me but would rather revel in the mystique, the satire, the romance, the opaque and sometimes, but rarely, the self indulgent. So why do I write? To express, to unburden, to cut the flaxen cord that binds my aching heart, to liberate my mind and soul and at times, just to delight in the way the words cascade across the page. There is a power in formulating thoughts into coherent concepts. Doing so in a creative and thought provoking manner is delightsome and a challenge to me.

So for my 1000th entry, there really is no mystery, no hidden agenda, no veiled expressions, just a review of why I like to write and a personal invitation to myself to write more. We'll see where the journey takes me this coming year, especially since I'm more committed to writing more frequently and have a renewed sense of satisfaction in the written word. I would have guessed that a milestone that seems significant in number would have engendered a more magnanimous entry, but that's the fun part of the journey. Not everything must be spectacular and even the mediocre can produce feelings of satisfaction.  Feeling satisfied.

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