Why don’t I write more often…?
I wonder this all the time. Every time I remember I have a blog, that hasn’t been updated; every time my life slows down enough for me to sit and think; every time I am so overwhelmed that my head swims with thoughts, worries and concerns that need to come out and take shape, hoping to form themselves into something that makes more sense than they do in my head.
But I hold on to the words…hold on until they disappear, or at least blend into the background enough to be ignored or forgotten. But why…?
Its the reality of it all. When I write I am exposed. I hold back very little and focus even less. I open my mind, my heart, myself to all who will listen (or rather, read)
But why should that be a scary thought? Why should opening up be intimidating when the truly terrifying idea to not be heard at all.
This weekend I was connecting with some old friends and meeting some new ones and I began to realise that modesty is a very funny thing. We learn from a very young age that it’s good to be modest, good to be humble. But there is a fine line between humble and aloof.
I am blessed with many amazing friends and love that I get to meet more all the time and hear from them who they are with pride an confidence.
A person who does not talk about themselves can easily be perceived as disconnected or veiled. And a person who cannot talk about themselves with pride in who they are can easily be perceived as having something to hide. The world is full of so many amazing people, and it seems that we all owe it to each other to open up more and share who we are, and not as some boring tale of non-threatening averageness, but as a vivid account of what make each of us great in our own way.
So once again I let the words go and look to maintain momentum and keep them flowing for a while, or least until the next time I let fear stand in the way of my words.