I’m pausing now to consider the blog.
Puddle Dive, except for the odd poem, has been pretty neglected of late. The first two weeks of November, I was obsessed with NaNoWriMo and the delusion that I was going to write a novel in a month– 50,000 words. Then I sort of lost interest in that and baked Christmas cookies for a week. Then I did– actually I’m not sure just what I did. My temperment is to blame, I’m a total floater. My Ayurvedic constitution is solidly vata, ether and air, all movement all the time, beginning much and finishing little. If it’s not my body, it’s my brain. That’s not the excuse it seems, even vata people need to rein themselves in and balance. I work on it.
Anyhow, the blog. What a great space to write in: you just open up your little window and start click-clacking away and there’s the added bonus of being able to share your writing and your thoughts with people. If you can do it. If you don’t get all uptight about it and worry about who is reading it and how many likes you get on an entry and how many typos you left littered throughout the thing and other such distracting bullshit. Some people couldn’t care less about that kind of monkey-mind crap and they pound away at the keyboard day after day.
I’m not really one of them.
The thing is, I’m not really sure sure how to unpick the set-in patterns, the samsaras, that form my habits. I console myself by saying that at least I have become aware of them, and mindfulness is half the battle.
But anyway, existential bull aside, I have been thinking about my blog, this blog, named after a joyous Ani DiFranco song, and I have decided that I do love it in spite of the fact that reading over most of the entries is embarrassing and it all seems exquisitely stupid to me (except the one about the four locks and four keys, but I have Patanjali to thank for that).
I’m going to tweak my relationship to the blog somewhat. I really like having this thing. So far, I have felt that each entry needs to momentous and polished within an inch of it’s life. That, well, that sucks. It cramps the writing and it ends up that I have little to write and share because I’m so hung up on tiny little things (this is shocking for me to realize; I always thought I never cared about all those tiny little things).
Puddle Dive has been rethunk, and will continue to be rethought. What I have come up with is that I’d like it to be more like a kaleidescope or a mosaic, made up and fitted together with pieces of prose (fictions and non), photos, poems, quotes, journal entries (especially journal entries), and actually, whatever the hell have you. I’m not even going to edit each one three or four times. I know I misspelled kaleidescope and I’m not even going to look at a dictionary to see how to spell it right. See how un-uptight I am?
I won’t tell you my goal is to write here every day, because that would be delusional. But I do promise to spend more time here and to, paraphrasing Matthew Remski’: “loosen the tyranny of certainty.”
And so, to end with one of my favorite quotes, from Nischala Joy Devi:
“The lotus teaches us that no matter how muddy the waters of our consciousness, clarity can always emerge.”