happy anniversary

Around this time last year I was overcome with the idea to start a blog - the kind I would tell everyone about. Something I could share with the world in that "I have something to say and people should listen!" kind of way. Like Twitter. I liked that writing was something I did out of passion, not for money, and it's much better that way. The inspiration for most of my entries were my own observations, and though I tried to make my writing less diaristic and more third-party commentary, the only constant was that I wrote what I wanted people to read. Staying true to that mindset, my publishings became anecdotal retellings - wishful they were that someone would share in my heartfelt, yet intimately personal, appreciations.

But I've been posting less and less recently. Not because my brain is not churning, but maybe it's been distracted. That happens to everyone. We never stop adjusting our focus. It's humbling to know that nothing will stop. Our growth, our learning, or our love.

What have I discovered over the past year, as my bloggings have waffled between being fearless and fallible and something I scrutinized and sculpted before posting, is that the only person I need to impress is myself. The analogy of the "pieces of my life fitting into place" becomes more realistic every day, and the missing, undiscovered or otherwise warped out of usable shape segments separate themselves from the true. On improvement is where my motivation focuses and I realize how no one will help me. We are all of us alone and this is not scary. My faith is in myself, and my faults, and my ability to better myself in whatever way I want.

What I won't give up on is the poetry I feel of every moment. The resonation of music in my chest that sets my heart on fire. The fluidity of orchestrating an action that comes not from something learned but deeply understood as necessary, inexplicable to someone else and beautifully so. The impulses of individuality. The perfect follies of humanity. The endless possibilities of love.



"What a piece of work is a man, how noble in reason, how infinite in faculties, in form and moving, how express and admirable, in action how like an angel, in apprehension how like a god!"