it’s been nearly a month since my last post. which is due, in no small part, to the collective mania we fondly refer to in N. America as “the holidays.”
but to point a finger at the whirlwind of gingerbread lattes and carol refrains that left me dazed amidst scatterings of discarded wrapping paper and pine tree needles, trying desperately to catch up to the words “new year,” is to single out a half truth. i suspect that my radio silence has less to do with seasonal madness than it does with perennial over-achieving. or over-committing. or any other over estimation of how much time and energy I conceivably have to offer the world (and its increasingly demanding doppelganger, the cyber world).
in short, life is crazy. to qualify that comment with “these days” suggests an eventual return to some semblance of sanity. or at least a potential visit by its distant cousins, balance and peace. and if there’s anything i can be sure of these days, it’s that that particular eventuality is not in my immediate future.
this reality has lead me to a chain of frenetically interlocking questions about life that I won’t bother hanging around your neck right now. but if i wanted to boil it all down (and i do), the base element in question is value. and where value is in jeopardy, so, too, is inspiration. more and more i question the value of spreading ourselves so thin, of plugging in to so many worlds and concurrent brain waves, of striving to be someone to everyone. i struggle with how, in this age of gluttonous access, i seem to be so bereft of exalted thoughts and moments, however small. it makes me wonder if we are really built to give so much of ourselves away. or take so much that is not ourselves in.
the irony of sharing this via a blog post is not lost on me. but i thought that by articulating these thoughts, i might kick start a metaphorical labor of sorts. purge the inspirational doldrums and find my way back to hearting on the world around me again.
it’s a little too early to tell, but i think we may have made just enough progress for me to believe that this is true:
don’t worry, all you old farts out there. we have room for your dreaming, too.
