Yeah, I would have expected something better than a tired Shakespearean reference after nearly a year and a half of silence, too.
I will not offer apologies for my blog silence because I don’t find it necessary. According to Google, I have 8 followers, and one is my mother (who has heard from me much more frequently in the last year and a half). I do not pretend that the remaining seven were sitting on the edge of their seats waiting for me. I do appreciate you seven, however, very, very much.
The initial reason for my silence was my first pregnancy and birth of our first child. At first I felt guilty that pregnancy took all of my energy, leaving me with only enough vigor to shower and get into bed after work each night. Now, as I hold my daughter in my arms and rock her to sleep, I realize that the real guilt would come if I didn’t devote every ounce of my energy to her creation. My strength was rightly aligned, without my even knowing it. It is funny how so much of what works in my life has so little to do with me.
After settling into life as a three-piece family, instead of two, I found it difficult to get back into blogging. Granted, we are in the middle of a primary season, and the country is in worse shape than when I stopped writing, which would normally stir my sense of indignation. Yet I was not feeling moved.
I recently read This Side of Paradise by F. Scott Fitzgerald. While I am no Amory Blaine, his comments did resonate with me when he explained to a friend why he was not interested in writing for a newspaper…
We want to believe. Young students try to believe in older authors, constituents try to believe in their Congressmen, countries try to believe in their statesmen, but they can’t. Too many voices, too much scattered, illogical, ill-considered criticism. It’s worse in the case of newspapers. Any rich, unprogressive old party with that particularly grasping, acquisitive form of mentality known as financial genius can own a paper that is the intellectual meat and drink of thousands of tired, hurried men, men too involved in the business of modern living to swallow anything but predigested food. For two cents the voter buys his politics, prejudices, and philosophy. A year later there is a new political ring or a change in the paper’s ownership, consequence: more confusion, more contradiction, a sudden inrush of new ideas, their tempering, their distillation, the reaction against them---
He paused only to get his breath.
And that is why I have sworn not to put pen to paper until my ideas either clarify or depart entirely; I have quite enough sins on my soul without putting dangerous, shallow epigrams into people’s heads…
It made me want to write a private journal about my everyday life to satisfy my pen to paper urges and leave the politics and ballyhooing to the junkies that feed on the never ending cycle of pronouncements and denouncements. But then I was reading one of my favorite girlie bloggers (the non-political side of me loves cooking and decorating blogs…just fyi) who happens to be a big C.S. Lewis fan, who said, “Like Lewis, I don’t write to be understood but to understand.” Well now, that resonates as well.
I do believe that I shall go on writing on this little blog. It may be sporadic, as I no longer have ambitions of being the loudest voice in the cacophony of political opinion. However, writing out these thoughts of mine does aid in the understanding.
I hope that you will keep reading.




