A Path With Heart
Thanks to all who have spoken briefly in the comments from a few days ago, about why they maintain their weblogs. It seems like more than a silly diversion to not a few of us. My web journal has been both a pleasant journey and worthwhile destination over the past two years. As I revisit those times, I find an August, 2002 journal entry (and part of the someday-book?) that expresses it in this way.
"...About once a week, I have a crisis of purpose. I wake up in a cold sweat wondering why I begin every morning sitting at the keyboard talking to myself and to people I'll never meet face to face. And each time I have this monologue, I reach the same conclusion: I write for selfish reasons. It is for my kids, so they can know, if someday they care to know, how we thought and lived in the Goose Creek years. Maybe a grandfatherly private memoir like Fragments may fill in the empty spaces of identify and heritage that are so often missing in our mobile and thinly-rooted lives; they were largely empty in mine, and I regret this. Should I reach the years of pleasantly forgetful senescence, the journal can carry us back to remember the flavor of life when we were 'young' and in our fifties.
But even if none of these reasons for journaling in this public medium hold water, with this haphazard memoir, I will at least able to say that, for one period in my life, I wrote regularly and with purpose--if not a great deal of finesse or direction. This is a thing I'd always promised myself someday I would do. But the best part, the here-and-now reward is the satisfaction of visits by my internet neighbors from far away who come every day to read over my shoulder about the common details from our place and time. They seem like friends. This seems like community, even though I hope someday the writing will introduce us to flesh-and-blood neighbors near home. And when the red lights dance and the final hoarse trill of the modem falls silent as it logs on, I'll have to say, I feel connected."
Thank you all for challenging and assisting, encouraging and amusing me these past two years; for coming around often enough to keep me honest, or mostly so, and eager to tell you about the microscopic joys that loom so large in this small world.
I'll be away for a few days. Talk among yourselves. Read the archives. Type something in the "search" window. Visit the gallery. Buy a Fragments coffee mug or puzzle. Go play in traffic. Do not run with scissors. See you all in a few. (I'll check mail and comments from Missouri so don't be shy!)