The last three years have been stuffed to the brim with stories. They were painful, exciting, terrifying, and satisfying years. The hard moments were so excruciating I could feel them on my skin; the goodness so rich, tears still well in my eyes for no reason at all. They were also deeply personal, sacred, even. Each experience, though played out in every day events, changed me on a spiritual level; had I felt the desire to share each story, I'd never have found the words anyway.
I think they will remain like that--locked away in my heart so that, moving forward, anything I create is born from that source, but I'll never be able to explain the source itself. Whatever flows from it, I'll know the meaning; but I'll never really be able to share the mother. But these experiences were so integral, they've changed my perspective about almost everything. They are the new lens through which I view the world. They're the foundations from which I am moving forward; and they even adjusted how I view my past, myself.
With this changed perspective, comes a renewed energy. I am revived to the art of storytelling and the want to do it. I'm not exactly sure what that looks like in this new heart space. I do know it isn't a daily blog about motherhood (though, let's be honest--it's not been that for a long time). Despite a prolonged hiatus from any regularly published writing, here or otherwise, the wanting to write has not vanished. Truly, the act of writing itself hasn't vanished either; I am just not sure about a spot for what I've been working on. I'm sorting through all that, and in doing so, I was reminded of what it meant to have my own little corner of the Internet.
I think when I abandoned blogging, basically, save for a note here or there, it was primarily out of fear. I was afraid that I would say more than I should or afraid that what I said wouldn't be enough. I was afraid that I would use up all my words (ha!) or that if I shared them, they might not belong to me anymore. I was afraid of not being taken seriously or being perceived as thinking too seriously about myself. When the Internet changed from a level playground of creative sharing to the cool girls' lunch table in an overcrowded cafeteria, I suppose I panicked. I panicked and then everything in my own life transformed again and again and again, and the stories were swept up in that storm.
We are often told to live a life without fear; but I am fairly certain that's impossible. A life, no matter how sheltered, is showered in uncertainty and terrifying moments. Like any hard thing, the point isn't avoidance, rather the condition of your heart in the face of it. Like deciding to sell the pretty bungalow and move to the Big City. Like being willing to admit when it was time to leave, no matter how much it hurt. Like saying yes to the paths less traveled: paths to self-employment, homeschooling, world travel.
Maybe I can tell you what's in the treasure chest after all: it's the result of every single time I was afraid but I went for it anyway.