After work today I drove out to the river. Ahhh…how nice to relax along the banks of the Huron River after a morning of squint-eyed juggling numbers and filling out forms. I thought about calling a friend to walk, but, as usual, opted to spend time solo just contemplating life and listening to the noisy roar of the river’s rush.
Thought about how I never know what the day’s blog will be about until sitting down beside the trusty computer and uploading the photos. Then letting the photos speak for themselves. Tell their story of the day.
In the beginning, way back in January and February of this outdoor commitment, I spent way too much time thinking about what to write in this blog. How to craft it. It almost became an obsession, trying to figure out what to say, day after day. What could possibly be entertaining, interesting?
Until one day, I just stopped. Decided the blog could write itself. I would work as the typist, and let the fingers have their say.
After I quit controlling output, the enjoyment of writing increased. I can’t TELL you how many hours of amusement I’ve experienced sitting behind the keyboard, letting the finger’s type, laughing hysterically at whatever decided to present itself. (A few family members and friends can attest to this.) Unlike other blogs I’ve written in the past, which could be very deep and serious and deep and serious and deep and serious…this one could be free and random and funny and whatever it wanted to be. Of course, it had to include the outdoor adventure. But beside that, anything was game.
Then some days the typing fingers seem to get serious. There’s a mood around here sometimes, an ambiance of philosophical pondering. It isn’t necessarily too deep (like those other blogs elsewhere) but it likes to speak in metaphor. It compares rocks and frost and trails and leaves to human scenarios. This voice has presented itself in the last few days.
A certain someone said last night (when I mentioned this fact): “I like your serious blogs best.”
Immediately I began to think: oh no! Should the funny one be censored? Refuse to let it come through? Should we axe her?
Within five minutes of this exchange (five minutes, mind you!) I checked my email. Someone had written with these exact words: I like your funny blogs best. Your funny blogs are the best!
Right. Hmmm. Goes to show you can’t please everyone, so, as the song goes…you got to please yourself…
I like to see what comes up. Funny. Serious. Philosophical. Photo essay. Whatever.
And that’s kind of fun in viewing other blogs, as well. The different tones and moods and parts of ourselves which reach up to express themselves. I don’t think we’re singular people. We’re so multi-faceted…and perhaps we like to keep some of our sides under wrap too often, tucked away in dusty corners of our psyche.
On the way back toward the bridge, smelling that autumn fallen-leave smell along the moist river-bank, I detoured up into the woods. And came upon a surprise, a mystery! The fruit of an unknown plant. Something never before seen by these eyes. What could it be?
I like the mystery of life. The unexpectedness of it. The way you can be silly one second and crying the next. The way you can feel unemotional and then deeper than the deepest river. Life is so unexpected. It’s such a gift, isn’t it?