Years ago, when I first started blogging, it was about sharing. About taking an experience that you wanted others to know about and taking the time to write about it. In my mind, it was about letting you know that you were part of this collective thing we call life. And that part of me that likes to connect with people, with life and its experiences, even if the blog was about Make and Do, really liked that.
But as time has passed, blogging from the seat of a small business became about your ranking on the internet (amongst a whole load of other things), publishing schedules and writing for your business. The spontaneity and pure joy of writing got watered down for the material gain of a digital one-up-manship. Blechh.
I made the decision that I wasn’t going to write to any schedule, other than the rhythms of my own life. It allows me to enjoy the process and hopefully, write from a place that is real and intentional.
And today is a good example of why this approach to writing works just fine for me.
I woke up early. Silly early. Like 5:00 am. And when I looked out my window at the very weak sun muscling its way through my glass, the green from the willow tree in my front yard literally made me pull my neck towards it to see the intensity of its beauty. In just one week they had turned from mud like clumps hanging off the end of the branches to green diamonds winking at me at this insane hour.
And I was overwhelmed with the feeling that Spring always brings – about regeneration, the chance to start all over again, a clean slate. Each year, without a doubt, it reminds me of the bigger picture.
Part of the joy of doing what I do is that while involved in workshops, people’s lips tend to loosen and you hear about the trials and tribulations of what they are experiencing. Ageing parents, babies not yet conceived but much longed for, unsuccessful marriages, financial woes, unbending partners – there is very few things that have not been discussed in the four walls of the Studio. You can see the pain that some people bring to the studio like the first opaque layers of onion skin – there but not there.
And when I see a morning like this, I want to write to remind folks that sometimes, the ebb and flow of the seasons is also a way of telling us that life is always moving underfoot and taking time to see how it shifts will remind you that everything changes. Good and bad. Ying and yang. The bigger picture. The human side.
And if I had been busy writing my pre-planned blog post, I would have never noticed the tree in my front yard. And yes, the blog post might have helped my ranking and maybe meant that more folks would have seen the business side of what we do.
But I would rather they see the human side.