Oddly, amazing wise things are not pouring forth from me right now.
I suppose that possibly means I’m learning how to finally listen. Really Listen. Listening that lets words
sink in and take root as opposed to just thinking of ways to somehow say what they’ve already said.
I can’t help but still hope one day I’ll have something to say.
That message. That word. That thing that will make all the difference.
The thing that will be so good it could be a book, or a five start blog, or a Facebook post with three thousand likes.
It’s like the famous blogger/writer is the ultimate celebrity of my generation.
Why do I need my words to matter? It it purely that I want attention? That I want the exposure? Am I so in love with approval that I think somehow a large audience would mean that I mattered? I know I matter. I certainly matter to the two creatures upstairs fighting sleep. The ones who pounded down the stairs tonight when I got home acting as though they hadn’t seen me in three years.
Do I think my life experience holds some key of wisdom that’s just going to somehow make a massive difference or resonate with a generation? No two stories are alike, so maybe that means mine still matters even though I could probably name several bloggers/writers who are at least in part telling a parallel story to mine right now with a much bigger audience, making the points I would make and learning the same lessons I am learning.
Do I want some kind of vindication? Am I secretly writing my blog in hopes people who never liked me or thought much of me the first place will “see” how wrong they were? Somehow I get the impression that if they didn’t like me back then, chances are they won’t like me much now, so why the need to posture and showcase some kind of “look how great i’ve turned out” story. Scary that I still entertain these fantasies. Shows how much I’ve matured over the years and how I clearly have my whole Identity/value thing sorted out.
I’m wondering if I am still in part driven by some need to be seen. A need to be right. A need to have it all figured out. A need to have arrived somewhere.
I’ve not arrived. I am on my way somewhere. I’m not ready to be exposed or seen. I would love to hide in obscurity. Whatever story others may resonate with is only just beginning.
Wisdom is something I am gleaning from others at the moment, not something I want to be sharing.
I’ve spent my life running away
Now I have to stay.
There is no where to run
I am now rooted in this life
But I’m not safe
This is my bed
I’m dying in it
A little more each day
That I stay
Maybe this death will bring life
Maybe It will be ok
It feels like I have to stay
Instead of running