My grand idea was to make this blog a space where others would also contribute. I imagined an intellectual cyber-cafe where people dropped in and chatted with me or others.
It never came to pass.
As with most grand ideas, this one too died, when I deleted all the posts sometime in 2007.
A year later, I simply had to start blogging again.
I had to because, well, I realized that blogging, writing, is an integral part of my identity. I didn't care anymore about any grand idea. I didn't care if anybody read the posts. I didn't care if anybody engaged with me. I would blog for an audience of one--me. Everything else was pure gravy.
I keep to my own schedule of blogging every single day. With exceptions, of course.
A year later, I simply had to start blogging again.
I had to because, well, I realized that blogging, writing, is an integral part of my identity. I didn't care anymore about any grand idea. I didn't care if anybody read the posts. I didn't care if anybody engaged with me. I would blog for an audience of one--me. Everything else was pure gravy.
I keep to my own schedule of blogging every single day. With exceptions, of course.
Blogging, expressing ideas, commenting, or creating something new, is not easy. For most of us, it is hard work to create something on a blank screen, and for that creation to be engaging to a passerby.
Yet, I feel compelled to do this. Because? There is no reason, really. It is just me writing, mostly for myself.
The hard work seems to also reinvigorate the brain. While I have no research to back me up, I am confident that this creates new synapses. Memory cells are re-charged.
Like with everything else in life, it is up to me to create the time that is needed for this activity. A truly busy man has time for everything, they say. I am not that man. So, every once in a while, I take off, like what I did this past few days.
Of course, there is a catch if I am going to set aside time for blogging: There are only 24 hours in a day. Setting time aside to blog means that I give up the time to do something else. Or to even do nothing.
It is all worth it. Especially when writing is so immensely cathartic. Therapeutic.
In 2021, unlike when I began blogging in 2001, blogging here is no longer about any grand ideas of conversations in a virtual cafe. To some extent, writing here has become an exercise in mindfulness. A focused activity, in which I create something out of nothing.
And then I look up, look out, to check on the world around me.
A wonderful world it is.
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