It was like walking into a room having forgotten why you went in. Life gets like that sometimes. You come to a place and all you see ahead of you is work, pain, and decline. Of course there would be good days, moments, funny stories. But there comes a point where colors are just words and everything looks grey.
Then one day I emailed a story to a friend. She really enjoyed it and asked if she could post it on her blog. She wondered if I had ever considered blogging. She thought I might be good at it. Maybe it was just the lure of something new, but I felt a thing I hadn’t felt for much too long. I felt excitement.
It’s been almost a year, which seems like a good time to reminisce, doesn’t it? That first post was frightening, and I’m not sure it’s gotten much easier. I put a little bit of myself out there on the internet every week, and wait to see if anyone else relates. The curious thing is that every week someone does.
Most of my posts include images. I dream in color, and to post without it would be deceiving. Whether I am using my Nikon Coolpix S220 or my Motorola Droid Razr, I like to illustrate my own story if I am able. Toting a camera has caused me to start looking for the things I’d forgotten were there.
Humans crave surprises. It’s what makes our heart soar when a melody changes key. It’s why we hop on a haunted hay ride. It’s why the best films don’t end like you thought they would. As I looked through my lens, wonderful surprises came into focus in the most routine of places.
There are friends I have met along the way. And I remind myself they are not real friends, but friends who know me only through what I share on the pages. Yet, when one of them shares some humor, I laugh. When one hurts, I shed tears. When there is bad news, I worry. If there is another definition of friendship, I do not know it.
Even more curious is this relationship I’ve reignited with myself. Like taking a step onto the yellow brick road, color seeped into ordinary things. Everyday tasks became metaphors. It took me only minutes to come up with the tag-line, “Seeking all things peaceful, balanced, whole and precious,” after deciding I needed one. Of course! It was not that these things did not exist. It was that I had failed to keep looking for them.
And this is the moment, after having forgotten, that I remembered why I had gone into the room.
Peace . . .