I have received such wonderful comments and emails lately asking such questions as, “When are you returning to blogging? When are you coming back to Facebook? Where the heck ARE you, anyway?”
Dear friends, I don’t know how to answer that question.
On one hand my heart leaps in joy to hear that you are missing the words and photos here on Lake Superior Spirit.
On the other hand, I am so enjoying this time *mostly* off the computer. It feels right. It feels warm and nurturing and healing.
After writing–oh goodness knows, how many posts–it must be over 1,400 now if you count all the blogs since Day 1 on several different sites–something inside has gone very, very quiet. It doesn’t want to engage in the same way. It wants to chop wood, do laundry. It wants to feed the woodstove, go to work at our little two-room school, to shovel snow. It wants to delight in tatsoi, the new veggie we found in the co-op recently (think: a cross between swiss chard and bok choy in the shape of a wreath) and to figure out four different recipes to use it in.
It doesn’t want to tell stories or take photos. It wants to enjoy wordlessly. (Even though, if you came for tea we’d probably talk non-stop, wouldn’t we?)
I am so enjoying the simplicity of this.
On the other hand, I don’t know how to reconcile missing all my on-line friends. How in the world does one *mostly* turn off the computer without turning off on-line friends? (Have you been able to figure this one out? I’m stymied.)
I’m not always good at balance in the short term. Sometimes I have to write lots and lots of posts and then just revel in silence. I always wonder if I’ll come back to blogging. Every time the answer has been “yes”. Who knows what it will be in the future?
I will return, friends, when the Muse begins telling stories again. It could be tomorrow or never. I will return to reading your blogs when the Universe urges. Please always feel free to email and say hello and share what’s happening in YOUR neck of the woods. Every one of you warms my heart in appreciation for what you’ve shared of yourselves. I am grateful for you.