“Oasis” by Phil Dolby. Shared under CC 4.0 license.

I don’t post on here very often, and when I do, it’s travelogues mostly.

Travelogues are safe.

This writing reticence is largely because I came to a point in life where I felt that what I had to say either 1) had already been said, and most probably repeatedly, by better writers than myself, or 2) in most other occasions, didn’t really merit saying because it was broadly immaterial. And I guess that just reflects where I am at in life.

In recent years, I have witnessed the withdrawal of many relationships in my life, as my contexts for connections have diminished as well. When COVID hit, I started down a course of solitude and isolation that I have largely maintained after the world opened back up in the last two years. That course was informed in part by an already pronounced sense of absence in my private world with the fading of some long friendships- dissolutions which I did not understand, and which, despite them occurring, I never seem to understand, and the blame for which I then pour over myself. I just kinda got used to not mattering, so it became “batten down the hatches, and weather it all out”. Usually not the best decision.

This isolation is largely my fault, I know, as I have made choices to not extend myself deeply into the lives of many around me. I think about this often. I think about the island I have put myself on, and the ramifications of living on it, if I sustain it. Tom Hanks’ film “Cast Away” comes to mind rather often these days.

Part of this seclusion has been a choice of how I deal with this time in life. It is probably not best, how I deal with things, but tying everything down and trying to self-sufficiently keep my existence puttering along has been the option that, in my mind, gave me the most control over what life brings me. It has been an exercise in extended maintenance which describes how much of my life became beached at the moment. This last year has been a year of trying to get on top of maintenance situations- from my health, to my house, to my truck, to in my daily life.

I’ve ended up in maintenance mode broadly because of my struggles with trusting people, and feeling at home with people, which have been lifelong issues for me. These are a funny twist against my otherwise romantic outlook on life and championing of the cardinality of love. I reckon I am a common case of adoring what I lack. But, despite by what I may miss or lack, I have always believed in love as the center of existence (thus, the interest in theology).

I also don’t write on here much, probably because I also think, who reads this? If I had something brilliant to say, who would hear it anyways?

Mom and Dad, thank you. My sister. People who probably have already heard these thoughts from me anyways.

What is the point of having a blog, then, I’ve asked myself, if you don’t write on it? Probably not much of one- unless, by using it, you guide your own mental processes to evaluate and make contributions or changes to the course of your life.

Over my computer desk, I have a few items from the internet I liked printed and taped to the wall. One is on Hemingway’s Iceberg Theory of writing. Another is a post on Kurt Vonnegut doing a ton of different things in his life not because he was good at them, but because despite his lousiness at them, he enjoyed doing them.

The third is Georgia O’Keeffe’s quote to Sherwood Anderson which, in recent years, I ponder quite a bit when the fog of personal significance settles in in my mind.

“Whether you succeed or not is irrelevant- there is no such thing- making your unknown known is the important thing- and keeping the unknown always beyond you.”

The great reminder in this quote for me is that who I am and what I have to offer is utterly different than what anyone else has to offer in life, because no two of us are like. No two of us have come from the same pace, in the same time, to live the same journey. Our differences, at a micro level, are enough to set each of our lives on different cultural and philosophical continents.

Which means the few words I post on here add something, whether or not they are read. Because they make my unknown known. Which may not be significant enough to move others, but may be just what I need to move myself, from haziness and inconsequence to clarity and relevance.

And to remind myself that I still have two feet on the ground in this world, and stuffs of self to offer in the commerce of relationships.

It is this quote on my wall that nudges me from time to time, in the deluge of futility, to try and speak up here and there anyways.

Living on an island is great, but 30 years of being alone on it has a few drawbacks.

And I’m now just no longer sure how to get off of it most of the time.