"The music is not in the notes,
but in the silence between."
— Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart
Open Blogger. Watch the line blink at me. Type out of order notes on posts I'll get to later. Close Blogger.
This is all I've accomplished with blogging for two weeks now. It's an eternity in blog land (because heaven forbid we mess up virtual stats in some far away virtual world). Some readers probably wondered if I was still alive. Or if I was about to write the ominous post that announced I was quitting blogging forever.
I have things I want to say. But lately, I don't have the words to say them. There are stories in my heart that I want to tell you, and yet, I can't seem to gather them together and put them on this page. And to be truthful, I have been thinking a lot about giving blogging up for good. Some people- many people- blog long after the words have run dry, and I don't want to be that girl.
But I know myself this much: that I will need a moment to be still. To live life without any thought of blogging it later. To step back and choose my words intentionally and deliberately. To savor the way that they taste in my mouth, the way they feel in my hand, the way they appear in tiny black lines and curves. Give me this time- this night, or these few days, or another week.
And then, I will need to write again. Because to announce that I will not write is to announce that I will not breathe anymore. I started with pink journals, the kind with the tiny locks on them to hold in all the secrets, when I was nine years old. I wrote in them for years, and then began writing poetry. And I've blogged before it was ever socially acceptable to admit that I had a blog. Writing is a compulsion, not a hobby.
Until then, as Will Rogers said- "Never miss a good chance to shut up."