You know, I tried making a blog a couple years ago.
It was fun making it, designing it, opening myself up to try something new. Maybe even find a way to get freelance work after a few years of honing my new skill. A few posts got up, some even on the brink of being interesting. (I know, shocker.) But here’s the thing:
I had no discipline to write.
“Writer” is not a label that I hold for myself, but they are people I look up to. That people out there exist who think thoughts and actually write them down — like, that’s incredible. And that some people are willing to share opinions, research, reflections, and themselves with others on a public platform? Even better.
My biggest flaw is that I still fear failure. I’d rather not even try if there isn’t a guarantee that I’ll succeed. Risk my pride and reputation for some new endeavor? No thanks.
But so much has happened. In conversations over recent years, I’ve found myself speaking with and listening to others’ experiences in their work, faith communities, and families, and find that the conversation often ends with, “It’s just all so much.” So much good, so much suffering. Maybe even too much.
I’m just now finishing my 25th trip around the sun, and there’s something in me that wants to — well, more accurately needs to — have a place to document what’s happening in my brain, body, and life. To get through the “so much” without losing my ability to be present when it’s too much.
And, hopefully, that’s why you’re here. To be a partner amidst the “too much” moments, when the joy or the sorrow is overwhelming. To offer observations, corrections, and presence. To be together.
So here’s to failing, to trying something new. To observe, make a record, embrace fear, and share with those who are also learning to embrace so much as I am. And, maybe, learn how to write along the way.