Tuesday, February 14, 2012
I started this blog just about a year ago. I did so because, as I wrote at the time, it was midwinter, I was home all day in a small house in the woods with a two-year-old, and I yearned for and needed connectivity. I also began it with an immense amount of trepidation. I abhored the word "blog" (thus deeming these pages my "dream-trailer-in-park-nowhere"); I was squeamish about becoming yet-another "blogger"; and I feared the ease of pressing "publish post" and the ensuing risk of embarrassment.
One year later, I may have embarrassed myself some, but I no longer question the worth of this venture/hobby. In the past year these pages have had over 8000 visitors from places as far afield as India, Pakistan, Germany, Alaska, Russia, and Kenya. Three of the essays I wrote have been published (or will be soon) in journals I greatly respect, and thanks to this "dream trailer" I've been asked to contribute to an NPR show featuring voices from Vermont. On a no-less-grand level, I found reasons to articulate something about what I was reading or thinking or seeing on days when I otherwise would not have. There is no scalpel more effective at clearing the fog of my brain than words, and sometimes I need a good excuse to do so.
Lastly, and most importantly, I found that elusive thing I was seeking: connection. I found kindred souls in far-flung places and became dear friends with people I'd known only peripherally. I found windows into worlds I otherwise wouldn't have seen and had conversations about books and reading and writing and mothering on days when I never left my snow-bound hillside. So thank you, dear readers. You are all my valentines. May the good work you do also lead you toward clarity and connection and an enriched daily experience of the lives you live.
(PS: if you start a blog, I'll read it.)