That's what my daily tasklist says currently - "consider blogging." Not to demand that I write, but to think about it in the context of setting my intentions for the day. I've found myself thinking, almost imagining myself writing in a variety of moments lately. I think I appreciate the process, the experience of clarifying my thoughts with a "how would I write this?" frame of communication.
It's the right time to consider slipping this back into my set of regular practices, too: our kids are back in physical school part-time as of this week! That gives me, well not a lot, but about two hours times four days a week in which I can choose to do things... requiring focus. There's something "manager schedule" about a house filled with kids and calls and meals and homework that makes uninterrupted time feel very different.
That quiet of the empty house is a psychological quiet - it's not about sound, but about space and possibility. Ironically I'm not writing this during that time... but I did get my other writing done this morning during that block, freeing up this evening and voila, here we are.
It's definitely still here, that freedom to just dive into myself and stream words through my fingers, whether I'm navel gazing at my minutest experience or philosophizing without bothering to explain all my constructs - this site/space is unabashedly for whatever the heck is useful to me.
The last few months have probably only seen my overall writing decline by, I dunno, maybe a third. I've written 16 newsletters for Intentional Society, plus internal updates and my email inbox is fairly active. But I miss the space, so here I am feeling a refresher taste of what it's like to be back here. What a nothing-burger of a topic, eh? But 300 words later... something in my heart is tickled about communicating with the undefined "you" out there, whomever you are gentle reader. It feels bubbly or giggly, and maybe a little sassy. "I'll spend as many words as I want being self-indulgently meta!" And stop without any concl