All these blogs and nowhere which reflects what is going on in my life. I suppose poetry reflects that in its own way as an artistic expression of an inner life and Blantyre Street touches upon one aspect of it and A Spiritual Life records the spiritual and Literary Faction the writer but not much of the overall 'Me' in it.
I do have my journal which I write but I am not sure I am brave enough to bare all as some bloggers do. One may ask why bother if it is not 'warts and all' and that is certainly something to ponder but my journal is something which may never be read by anyone and I like that element of privacy. I have come to appreciate at a more mature age why many writers and keepers of journals and diaries have burned their writings in older age.
Is that cowardly? I suppose it depends what is in them? If it protects others then it is probably simply wise. And perhaps they look back and realise how much has changed and how much seems narrow and limited with the hindsight of perspective. Or perhaps I am making excuses.
Whatever the reason I have decided it is time to be true to Cassandra and to turn what has become a poetry blog into a journal blog; exploring, recounting and detailing things in my life which are important enough to write about. I am not sure important is the right word. Rather, things which I feel a need to write about.
Perhaps I will strive for balance given that I am very aware that my journal too often records the darker, lower, demanding, challenging, even depressive aspects of my life. Perhaps the need to write is not there with the joyful and the mundane but it should be. I shall endeavour to weave the deep and meaningful with the shallow and meaningless although in truth I don't believe anything is meaningless, nor for that matter, shallow.
Perhaps it is the mundane and the extraordinary I wish to 'paint in words' although both categories are judgements dependent upon belief and perception. Perhaps it needs to be whatever takes my fancy, regardless of classification; something more in the tradition of a diary, a simple recording of the days no matter how banal or profound. A goal at least.