The first post is always the hardest. I’m happy it’s a beginning but I’ll be sad once it’s published – it’s already over.
In that sense, this may be the beginning but it’s not an introduction. You won’t get one of those from me.
Introductions are even sadder than beginnings because once you’ve been introduced you’ve invited an inevitable goodbye. It’s emotional but frivolous. It’s like crying over a greeting card – and sealing the tears in an envelope addressed in reply. Nobody wants that.
Nobody Cares What’s There
Speaking of which, nobody cares about mail these days. Nobody wants to read too much since they can just browse the headlines and #tags. It’s t’s like deciding between red and blue- and choosing the cheaper one. Nobody cares what you didn’t pick or read or do!
So what’s at the bottom of the well? You can see me, photographed above, considering it. Suppose I did get trapped down there (how do you know I didn’t?) Here are some of the deep thoughts I found.
- The farther down you are the more you notice what’s above.
I have always loved the sight and sound of airplanes in the sky. When you’re in a well, it’s extra exciting to see one overhead and marvel at how the sound can’t catch up to what you see. Perspective is everything.
- I prefer an Inkwell.
After awhile it gets lonely. If I could’ve had stuff with me in the well, it would’ve been some pens and paper. That being said, my preferred medium for writing is not a blog. Someday, about the novel I’ll publish, I’ll be telling you its first draft was entirely handwritten.
- Doing nothing is sometimes doing a lot.
If you’ve ever taken my yoga class, you’ve heard me say it. If you’re ever in a well, I suggest you trust it. Stillness is everything.