In plain sight

Have you ever searched for something, like your keys, for a significant amount of time only to find them right in front of you? It is as though they blended into the foreground and background of their surroundings so that their shape, depth, and color was completely indistinguishable. Once you found them, it is quite likely you felt a bit crazy because who would not have seen those keys lying right there within reach?

I had been searching for something for weeks, maybe months. The search was so lengthy and so difficult because, unlike a set of keys, I had no idea for what I was looking. I vacillated between searching for this thing with the belief I would know it when I saw it and struggling with the notion that I must have the exact description in hand before I could even look.

Thanks to a serendipitous series of events, my search is over. No, I did not find it, but my search is over just the same. A friend who saw me struggling, looking for something as of yet unknown, led me to the most astounding revelation. The thing I was longing for, struggling to find, was not outside myself at all. I was looking for me. I was looking for things to make me the person I wanted to become when, as he so gently and persistently pointed out to me, I am that which I have been struggling to find.

Gone!

Yesterday I awoke to find this blog had been deactivated. There was no explanation, just a canned message on my dashboard stating that the blog had been suspended because I may have done something to violate the terms of my agreement with WordPress. There was a link to click if I wanted to dispute it and it promised that someone would respond to me as soon as possible. So, I clicked the link, briefly stated that I was perplexed as to what had happened and asked for my blog to be reactivated.

And just then, it was. What a rush of relief to see that familiar page load after seeing nothing there but an ugly banner telling the world that my blog had been removed.

And then, the blog was gone again.

Oh, the angst. I clicked the link again to plead my case once more, to tell whoever was holding my blog hostage that I had not, to my knowledge, done anything to violate the terms and conditions set forth by WordPress, so please set it free!

And just then, I received a very nice email from Alex at WordPress:

Hi,

Sorry about that – your blog was caught by mistake. It’s back now and it won’t happen again.

Kind regards,
Alex

I was so relieved to know that it was all a mistake and according to Alex (who has no reason to lie to me) it will not happen again. But I have to be honest, for the briefest of moments, when I saw the account was suspended I did do a mental happy dance and think, “I won’t have to blog any more! That burden is lifted! Hooray!” But then it sunk in. My blog was gone. All those memories of good and bad, happy and sad times were gone. I would no longer have that connection to the friends who visit here. I would no longer have this public creative outlet to question and comment and ponder introspectively.

And I was overwhelmingly sad. Which made me realize that no matter how often I blog or to what degree I blog, it is important to me. Thank you, WordPress and Alex, for reminding me of that.

We need to talk

I started dialing your number tonight but hung up before pushing the last digit. It was not that I did not want to talk to you, I did. I do. It was not that I had nothing to say, I did. I do. It was with finding the words that I struggled.

You have been my best friend for almost three decades. We have been through everything together. We know each other better than we know ourselves. And yet, I do not know how to tell you what I want to tell you.

This is ridiculous, really. You would listen and understand and celebrate with me. That is what we do for each other. But part of me knows that in telling you, I may hurt you, and I just keep hoping that your circumstances will change or I will find a better way of telling you so that does not happen. You certainly do not need more pain in your life.

And that is the crux of it, isn’t it? How can I tell you how much joy I have in my life when you are so sad and beaten down? How can I share this with you without both of us falling silent, thinking about how different our lives have become?

I know that the longer I wait, the more hurt you may become just because I waited. So I will dial your number again soon, while praying for the right words to tell you what I want to tell you.

Because, you should know. You are my best friend.

Making room

So as I mentioned before, I am in the process of decluttering my home. I desire to have fewer possessions and feel more receptive to opportunities. Those may not seem to be related but they are. Stuff is good but there can come a time when you no longer own it, it begins to own you. That is when it is time to let go. It has been amazing to discover that in throwing out objects I have eliminated a lot of mental baggage I held, too. It has been a liberating, if painful at times, experience.

As my grandmother used to say, if you want something good to come into your life, you have to make room for it. Wise woman, my grandmother.

I am actually telling myself I am moving away to stay motivated. (And don’t tell me differently because I have a pretty good delusion going on right now.) So everything in the house is being viewed in that light. Do I use this often? Does it have a purpose, have value? Do I want to pay someone to move this for me? Will I ever unpack it on the other end of this journey?

Last weekend, I put my books under this scrutiny. Every book I own was piled on the floor in the living room, in tall, unwieldy stacks. I sat in the middle of them, surrounded by these paper friends, supported by my Twitter friends, and picked up each one and determined its fate.

Yes, I cried.

But by the time I was through, I had almost 100 books to donate to the library and it felt as though a weight of about 100 books was lifted. I learned while evaluating each book that they truly are like people in our lives. Some people are forever friends, confidantes, life-long companions. Others are friends of the moment, the ones who happen into your life for a particular reason or season and then move on. I have the same types of relationships with books.

The books that remain in my collection are my dear friends, my companions, the ones who will lift me out of funks, transport me to favorite places, and be there for me on sleepless nights. The other 100 were friends of the moment. I enjoyed them, needed them at the time, and will miss them, but it is time we both move on.