I write as much for myself, if not more, than for other people, but I’m learning about the responsibilities of having a readership. It’s like walking a tightrope between personal integrity and a hundred foot people-pleasing plummet.
Writing serves as a life compass for me, something to read in the future to see if I’m headed in the right direction. The true test is when I read these articles later, is if it seems like someone else wrote them; hopefully someone wiser.
Doing things in a new way brings with it certain challenges. After all, it can be tough to let go of an old self-image, which sometimes feels like a sensitive and raw part of you is being exposed, and something personal is falling away, but even the trees go through it.
Perhaps closure is needed. A wake. A funeral. A rite of passage. There comes a time when the past must be laid to rest — honorably and in memoriam — but left behind all the same, so that the future can grow.
Life is for living, by the by, with its infinite joys and sorrows, pains and pleasures, sins and redemptions, a journey of a thousand miles and a rabbit trail to nowhere, the dark nights of the soul and the moments of grace that make you weep at how beautiful and pointless it can all seem to be.