Slow Blogging

It really wasn't my intention to only post once every couple of weeks. The idea of this blog is to snatch something from each day that is worth remembering and write about it. Unfortunately, my days seem to be too filled, and I am not allowing myself enough time to stop and pay attention to life's moments. Most days are are somewhat mundane, or don't include any moments that would be particularly interesting to post on a blog. I hustle kids off to school, then I run, then I work, then I begin the after-school necessities (spelling words, homework check, homework nag, laundry- always laundry, dinner prep). After dinner, I'm little more than comatose, and in no shape to try to remember something poignant or profound in its simplicity. I just can't think on that deeper level after 8 p.m. I carry a little leather-bound notebook in my bag (I assume that if I buy expensive journals I'll feel guilty if I don't use them), but then I forget that I have it, and its pages remain blank at the end of each day. And on most days, so do the pages of this blog. And the blog is free.

For a writer, a blog is either exhilarating or frightening. I know writers whose words pour out onto daily, lengthy posts. The sight of the blank screen is a challenge, and, amazingly, they come up with something worth reading every day. Other writers I know (like me) feel paralyzed by the blank screen. For us, it's a steep mountain - the thought process, the writing, the editing, the proofreading, then finally cutting it down to a size that seems manageable for a daily (or bi-weekly) read. Then wondering, after it is posted for the world to see, if I am nothing except narcissistic. I've spent some time thinking this through, trying to determine whether I am more OCD or lazy, or a deadly combination of the two. Or perhaps, I wonder, am I simply too frantic to pay attention to life? You know, the good stuff that happens in between all the necessary evils of the day. This possibility saddens me the most, because I have long been aware of the need to see beyond what passes for daily living. In fact, I have a framed quote from Frederick Buechner that hangs above my office desk. It goes like this: "Listen to your life. See if for the fathomless mystery that it is. In the boredom and pain of it no less than in the excitement and gladness: touch, taste, smell your way to the holy and hidden heart of it because in the last analysis all moments are key moments, and life itself is grace." Despite my desire to live life at the deep end of the pool, I keep allowing myself to paddle around in shallow waters, going through the motions but never looking for those key moments that force us to delve into the depths of attentive living. I read Buechner's quote and realize how easy it is to make swift and subtle trades. It's easier to talk than listen. Easier to mouth pat answers or trite platitudes instead of ponder the mysteries and the haunting questions. Easier to rush by than to stop in wonder. Easier to close off than to open up. I thought blogging might force me to stop making the trades. So far, it hasn't. My life is very good, but it could be better. I can't make myself promises that this blog will become what I intended for it to be, but I'm nothing if not tenacious, so I'll keep trying.