You’d never know it but I think of this space every few weeks. A place to archive events and activities–maybe. A place to process thoughts and memories–more likely.
I’m reluctant to admit that I’m an avid blog reader. Reluctant because being a “fan girl” is the last label I would ever want for myself. In my online wanderings, I’ve noticed a few common reasons for lapses in blog writing. Most commonly, in-person life is busy. Why would you nurture the virtual one if you barely have a handle on the one playing out in front of you? Another situation I’ve noticed is that writers are in the midst of an internal crisis/evaluation. These times are best hashed out where there is less permanence, more freedom to flex and move. Words written out even in a changeable electronic form seems too public, too tangible.
Me? I’m in both camps. My family unit keeps piling on practices, projects, meetings, events despite our best efforts to guard our margins. Without our margins, writing here is among the many activities that don’t make it on to the page. And because the page is so filled with the text of life, we’ve got a reckoning coming. We’re cramming in all we can, filling the margins and the spaces between words. Soon the ink will over take the paper.
In working to balance ink and paper, we need a bit of a pause. I’m looking forward to it–a time to cut, remove, and delegate. I welcome this not because the process is painless but because it is a time to dream. It is a time to gather bits of ourselves we are discovering and to produce a new page for our family, with margins.
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