Oceanside Nevada

I’ve struggled with returning to blogging for so long now, whether micro or full bore, heedless and headlong logorrhea. Many reasons. My therapist has been encouraging me so I’m trying. The ongoing Elonpocalypse which alternately horrifies me and fascinates me like a burning tower full of birthday clowns has got me thinking even more about blogs and blogging and the independent web. Trash fire or not, social media killed (or at least severely wounded) blogging not just because it made publishing simple for the common person but because it made discovery and curation of our personal cones of silence trivial. It was easy to surround ourselves in a warm blanket of common opinion, fellow travelers walking down the path alone.

As I was maundering over this, I came across a recent post from a blog that’s been silent for so long I don’t actually recall why I added it to my RSS feed. In the moment it struck a chord for me in a way that’s hard for me to articulate. It seemed fortuitous, the struggle to start over.

Fiat Lux

The door creaks softly as I push it wide.

It’s not complaining, really, just surprised

That anyone would come. I, mesmerized,

Breathe deeply, lift my chin, and step inside.

The house is still ineffably itself.

The places where we talked, or laughed, or wept,

Abide (albeit cobwebbed and unswept).

And written there atop the mantle-shelf:

Say what you mean. Bear witness. Iterate.

Ah. This is why I came. It’s getting dark.

It’s time to light the world up with this spark.

To shine. To make some light. Illuminate.

For what has been, and what is yet to come,

Again the door is open. Welcome home