Blogs are curious things. I often wonder if my blog is a travel journal for others, a person journal for myself, or merely a showcase so that others can see what's going on in my life. I find it quite ironic to blog about blogging, but I cannot seem to help but muse about this strange habit I have formed. I have blogged for six years. I hope there is something worth reading in all these posts.
It is late as I write this and the headlight of cars rushing past the fogged window make shadows dance on the darkened walls of this sleeping house. I cannot write much more, but here is something on which I have been thinking all night:
We enter this world and we exit this world, for we cannot avoid our own existence. We live with the hopes that something will happen in between the start and finish of our lives…something that was good enough...something that left an imprint…that changed someone…that altered the course of another’s life. We hope that it is good enough for what comes after. I know what comes after, but some people are less certain. Not knowing makes the end of this whole existence business far more frightening than it need be.
I have not been content lately. I have been impatient, antsy and I have forgotten how to reside in the now without stretching out cold fingers and grasping for the future. No matter how far I reach I cannot pull myself out of the present. I must be patient.
Surely we should all take some time to savor the current moments of our lives To rid ourselves of the things that shouldn't consume us and dismiss them. Continuing to learn the things that need to become part of our lives, perhaps we will begin to understand why we need them… why now is necessary. There I always merit in the present no matter how much I wish I was somewhere else.
And so I strive for contentment.
This blog post—this curious piece of cyberspace that I have claimed as my own—this single blog post is not travel journal for others (for I am not traveling). It is not a personal journal for myself ( I have one of those already, and being leather-bound, it is far more beautiful than this blogspot), nor is it a mere showcase so that others can see what's going on in my life.
It is nothing. Nothing of consequence. C.S. Lewis once wrote, "We do not write to be understood, but to understand." And that is what I am doing. I am writing to understand myself…and what on this earth I am doing.