"Now Why Don't He Write?"

I have spent the weekend searching for a quote that I wanted to use in the resuscitation of this blog. It was something John Lennon said as he came out of retirement for the release of his Double Fantasy album. I didn’t find it. But it spoke about how he spent five years raising his son, baking bread, and so forth. He spoke of how he survived the chaos of his past and he is doing fine. He asked how we were doing. Did we make it as well?

Since I couldn’t find the exact quote, I’ll borrow a line from the film Dances with Wolves. Finding a sun bleached skeleton on the prairie, the disgusting Timmons says, “I’ll bet someone back east is going, ‘Now why don’t he write?’”

Over these past few months I could have been that sun bleached skeleton. I haven’t written and I have offered no explanation as to why.

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Writing for me is highly personal. Most of what I write is contained in a number of journals that I have kept through the years. I have a few other notebooks that I’ll make notes in and one for recording quotes that I have read or heard that mean something to me. But writing for public consumption does not come easy. Here are three contributing factors. 

One. My grammar is not always the best. In school I excelled in creative writing, where style and form were subservient to content. Yet when grammar, sentence structure, and all that other ilk were required, I’d see my grades decline. Then, and now, I write the way I wish to write and it doesn’t really bother me if how I write is proper or improper. Two. While what I write is interesting to me, it may not be to others. I began this knowing that it would have a very limited audience. So at times I wonder why should I bother.  Not many people are reading it. Three. I set for myself an unrealistic goal of publishing something every week. It was brutal keeping up and placed unneeded stress on me. Needing to find relief with the busyness of life, this was an easy thing to set aside.

Now, I find that I miss it. I enjoyed sharing little facets of my life. Living in a time when our oral histories are lost as generations pass and memories fade, writing here (and in my other places) is a way to preserve some that history; for my children, my grandchildren, and anyone else who may be interested. 

I am not a person who makes resolutions at the New Year. This isn’t to say that I don’t set goals, I do. Example. I know I need to lose weight. But saying I am going to join a gym and go three times a week so that I can lose such and such amount of weight does  not work for me. Yes, I need to exercise. Still I know that this level of commitment is not a real priority for me. What does work is a daily awareness to eat better and eat less. Where and when possible, I will exercise. 

I set a goal to wake up at 5:30 each weekday morning and spend time in prayer and Bible study. This is happening and it is making a great difference in how I go through my day. I am happier, focused and energized to face the day ahead. I am ashamed that I didn’t do this years ago. 

I have set a goal to read more this year. On 31 December I set out twelve books I plan to read this year (see reading tab). Mixed into those twelve is Thoreau’s Walden and an assortment of literary anthologies that I’ll read from occasionally.  

Somewhere in mix of that is going on I’ll manage to draw a bit and work on my photography.

I’ll endeavor to live in each day, with a glance every now and then towards the future.

Then, there is this. It crossed my mind Friday that I need to return to this space from time to time to share a story. I am not going to change the format. It isn’t moving in a different direction. I will only write when it suits me and I am feeling inspired to do so and it will not be weekly. It will simply be me sharing a thought, a memory, a quote, a dream, a photograph, or an experience with my family and friends.

Thank you for sticking with me. I apologize for the absence, but hope you understand.

~ g