Why do I blog every day?
Richard, a past mentor now a friend, asked me this question as steel-cut oats bubbled on the stove. To and fro I paced grabbing strawberries, blueberries, and bananas to cut from the refrigerator, as my mind floated into a stream of consciousness.
My why has shifted like tectonic plates under the earth’s surface. Some days it’s because it’s an obligation I’ve set, like brushing my teeth or putting on clothes. Come to think of it, I was naked most of yesterday, so scratch that.
On other days, the creative juices flow like molten lava, spreading their love and scalding ooze over the page, the resulting landscape is richer, more bountiful. On others, I do it for you. I’m a lifeline, a hand to clasp if that first step is unsteady or unbalanced. I’m here, and I’m going to be here, and showing up for you is something that gives me meaning.
And also its posterity, a sharp blade point displacing bark off a tree’s trunk, forever immortalizing that this happened. I was here, we were here!
I’m also a fan of writing to process and make sense of my experience. Sometimes a paragraph is all I need to weather torrential downpours and king tide currents of insecurities to point my ship back north again. To get me back to the present.
Presently, I like writing because, like a theater’s stage, there’s a spotlight on this moment, on the feeling of it, being present with you in it. Like well-done improv (reminder to self, I want to go to Comedy Improv in Seattle soon), I grab a red ball out of an imaginary place in the sky, plop it onto my head, then wobble, steady and wobble to make it stay. Then jump, pop the rubbery ball into the air, for it to land in my pulled-open extra-large clown-sized pocket, before placing an arm across the underside of my breast and taking a bow.
It’s the magic of pulling something out of nothing, playing with it, tuning into it, relaxing with it, and receiving it that is so stimulating that I am a junkie for it.
I also value perspective. In a week as a counselor, I navigate 24 different people’s perspectives, and to be able to highlight the ones worth elevating or dim-lighting the ones worth forgetting, I think is worth knowing. I’m a huge believer in learning from other people’s mistakes.
That said, the one mindset I’d like to do away with is helplessness and powerlessness. This shows up in our thoughts like, “What’s the point?” “That person is holding me back,” or “I’ve tried everything.” It’s a stop before even starting. When something doesn’t work, that’s ok! Put a big red flag in its crappy, stinky pile that says “No more!” and then do like the woman sinking in quicksand did in a podcast I recently listened to: Get the eff out of there.
As you might tell, I’m feeling frisky. I’m feeling on top of my life, and that’s mostly because I have clean sheets to sleep in for the second night in a row. Aren’t clean sheets the best?
Love, Jaclynn
Going On 40 