I come from an age when good Catholic kids were expected to show up at their parish church every Saturday to make their confession. It was more or less required. You may not go every week, but it was almost mandatory that you go once a month.
So, Dad made sure I met the requirement. Even though he was a little less stringent with me in terms of weekly confession, I absolutely had to go to church every Sunday unless I was dead, or half dead. He also made sure I went once a month to Confession. He'd predictably say, "Better pack a lunch; you'll be in there awhile." Very funny, Daddy...
In retrospect, I have always found the notion of the Confessional with children as counter-intuitive. I mean, what does a child really have in the way of sin? I often found myself actually committing a sin while in the confessional, telling a lie, fabricating some small transgression, in order to make the session in the dark, incensed cloaked box with my favorite priest worth his time. Crazy. To that end, I've stolen thousands of phantom apples in my life, even though I'm not that fond of them. And, even though I've never stolen an apple or anything in my life.
No, check that; I just told you a lie. I stole fake fingernails from Woolworth's. Don't ask me why. I was so guilty and felt so bad about it, I tossed them in the trash bin on the street when I got out the door. So, maybe the whole Confessional thing works to develop a conscience more than do much good in terms of the actual visit.
"Bless me Father for I have sinned. It's been a week/month since my last confession. I talked back to my father one time. I got mad at Nanny, The World's Meanest Woman (who could make a saint mad, but I digress,) five times.
I stole an apple. I said a swear word. I took the Lord's name in vain, and Nanny washed out my mouth with soap so I don't know if it's still a sin...." and that was pretty much the extent of the week.
I still know the benefit of confession, or as it is called now, The Act of Reconciliation. It is good for the soul because it liberates you and sets you free. It's like a deep cleansing breath. So it's time for me to make a confession to you all. And, reconcile with myself. May as well start the New Year off in a good direction.
For some time now, you've noticed I haven't been posting much. Awhile back I made some cryptic comments about my thoughts about the direction of this blog and such. Then I remained silent. Why? I'm not really, truly, absolutely sure. Except that I've reached a cross roads of sorts.
"Bless me Father Blog, for I have sinned. It's been a long time since my last post. I've been less than forth-right in my sharing of thoughts. I've been evasive and uninspired."
Here's the thing: I don't know what to do with this thing I've created, or where to go, or how to manage it any more. In a nutshell, it's become a lot of mental work. And, most days, I don't have the energy to gather my thoughts that swirl around like dry leaves in a wind storm. Not only that, but honest to gawd, I just don't have a fascinating thought to share
every day! No one is inspired every day.
But, the real reason I've been so dodgy lately is that I cannot give less than my best. And, what I wasn't prepared for is, not how much time it takes to make a post, since I'm gifted with writing and that comes very quickly when I decide to post. No, my problem is you; it's really your fault.
It's really a problem about giving all of you less than 100 per cent. I've become so close with many of you and your work. But it takes HOURS a day to read your postings. I don't have hours. Just don't. So I feel guilty. Who knew there could be so many fascinating blogs out there? I feel like a person who has 20 magazines coming in a month. I want them, but I don't have time to read them all! And they pile up taunting me and my inability to keep up.
What I didn't know about blogging is how it's very much like a high school clique. And, you have to work very hard to maintain your status; keep your readership numbers up, if you want to be seen as successful. I thought it would be a case of, "I'll write well, and of things that are interesting, and the comments will start and the readers will come."
Uumm, not really. In order to have followers, you have to cultivate them, and the only way to do that is by following their blogs, too. And commenting. Sharing. Letting them know what you think about what they had to say.
My problem? I can't phone it in. Just can't. I won't disrespect your energy and effort like that. So I can't just speed read through your post and leave some less than full comment just so you'll come and visit with me. In my humble opinion, that's what a lot of blog writers do. You can tell by the depth of the comment. However, I refuse to to that.
Also, I've lost some of my original blog friends who have packed it up and said, "adieu" to the whole thing. When you read why, it's basically because they realize they've allowed their real life to go on hold while they sit at the computer for hours making the rounds. I admire them for deciding that life is more interesting than blogging. But, I'm jealous of them too. Because I've not had the courage to let it go. I just want to let go of the hours of obligation to make the rounds.
I miss my friends who I first made who have gone on to other things.
Kavindra, Mel, Tessa and Toni. Some of them are beginning to write again, so that's a good thing as I'm thrilled they're back, but it adds to the stress because now the blog reading list has gotten longer!! What's a girl to do?! I'm rambling because my thoughts just don't seem to want to cooperate on this topic.
I've decided: I will not post every day. And, on the days when I don't post, I will be reading the blogs that I find fascinating. I will continue to give myself the liberty of not commenting every time I stop by. However, you can bet I will comment when I have something to tell you about what you shared.
I promise you, I will not be speed reading through your post. I will not leave a comment just so you feel obligated to come to read my stuff. Come visit with me when you really want to, not because you're being polite about this whole thing. I'm going to give you the gift of some time, at least when it comes to Your Mother Knows.
I am not staying on the blog merry go round; I'm getting off.
I'm certain my decision will impact my numbers. I'm certain that many of the followers have decreased because I'm not playing the game anymore. But, the way I see it is...I really only want people who find my work, authentic, worthy, and interesting in its own right, not because I'm part of a fraternity.
I want my readers to get something worth their time. I want this to be worth my time and not feel like a thousand pound gorilla. I want to keep writing a blog that makes those readers say to those they care about, "Hey, you need to go read Your Mother Knows, because she's a good writer," and that's getting me back to my original intention.
And, having said all this out loud, I'm feeling much less conflicted about the whole blogging situation. I'm Human enough to worry that my confession here will make my followers dwindle to nothing. But, that will be as it will.
Meantime, I start the new year getting back to the original intention of blogging. For me, by me, with truth and a journey toward better understanding of the world around me. Oh, and one more thing; sorry I had to go back to word verification. I have been spammed by Butt Munches who insist on telling me how to get a bigger penis. Yeah, I'm very happy about that.
Father Blog says, "Your sins have been forgiven; go forth and write in the truth; sin no more."
Amen. I have to go do my penance now. Talk with you again soon!
Namaste' Till Next Time,
Holly aka The Truth Teller
Yep, purple and blue fish arrived at my house. It cost a lot of money to send those fish! Who would do such a thing?
Along with the fish, a letter of explanation...
And, copies of photos I passingly said I admire...
And a wild heart with a bug of bling! Bugs and fish in the mail? Wow! The funny thing is, the one who sent it?
Couldn't have known how excited the critters and bugs who already swarm my house would act. How very pleased and excited to have a new member in their Bling Family. They immediately swarmed around in welcome. Landing on that cool paper heart in a matter of seconds! I love synchronicity!
And, the most warm and wonderful love note from a friend far away... reminding me yet again that the blog world is so wonderful because it brings people together who may never have met in 'real' time. Brings warmth, commraderie, friendship. Forms bonds of support and care.
Thank you Cinner, for your wonderful gifts and for sharing from you personal life. For giving me a sense of who you are by what you write and so freely give. Turns out fish can survive in the mail after all!
By now you know I was a crow in my last life...if it's sparkly and bright, I love it. My jewelry is more important when considering what to wear than my clothes. It's not just because I weigh more than I'd like and so don't like clothes much. I've always been all about the jewelry.
If someone really wanted a piece of me to hold close after I was gone, one of my bracelets would be a fine gift. But really, you'd find more of me in my Grandfather's eye glasses. I'm not sure how I ended up with them, but I love that they sit where I can see them and remember him. How he'd give me the change from his pocket when he saw me. How he smiled. How he wore a carnation on his lapel on the nights he was in our family restaurant. How the family nick named him "Scrappy," because he had an explosive, short-lived temper. What a character!
...you'd want my father's watch. Because when I need to feel my Dad, I put his watch on and wind it up and listen to it tick.
...but if you want to feel me as I wrote, you'd want to have my favorite fountain pen...the one that I had made for me.
"What the hell are we going to do," I asked Michael, "It's Christmas day and we have called every restaurant in the area! Who would think NOTHING would be open on Christmas day?!"
I've only seen the Gulf one time...and it was beautiful, but still not the Atlantic Ocean and its power. I've seen the Pacific Ocean and was humbled. But, on Christmas Day, while I didn't see Three Ships Come Sailing In, I found my eyes were filled with tears and not because the wind was blowing. No, I got emotional because I was yet again reminded how different and wonderful my life is now.
Not constrained by time with no obligations and places to visit, we split up and rambled at our own pace. And examined what the storm had belched up onto the white pillowy sand. Gifts of the Sea on a Yuletide...
And, I was mesmerized by things I've not seen before....like the surf line leaving what whimsically seemed like sea lace...
I watched with a huge smile on my face while my Boydog ran flat out for as far and as long as he wanted. And, was rewarded by catching him in a Butt Tuck Zoomie...doing his best Rocket Dog impression.
There are still some who do not think animals have emotions and I'm done arguing the point. I know what I know. And I just know that when I see this picture, I see an animal smiling with exhilaration and delight.
Happy to have the freedom that all dogs should have, but sadly so few do. Yeah, Rory sure did enjoy his Christmas morning.
He got to commune with his 'big brother,' who is one of his very favorite people in world.
And we watched the Gulf crash and roll in beautiful rare waves.
We stood alone and together and marveled at the open stretch of beauty that was ours for the day.
And, I dropped back and watched my family enjoy their time and sent a thought to Melissa and Zach who weren't able to join us to be with Evan.
I saw a young guy who was in high school when I first met him, turned into a man. Serving his country, crafting his life independently from ours. Yet still tied to us by love and affection.
And another gift I got is this picture... now my new favorite. Because it's four of my favorite spirits all together. I couldn't help but think, how different the world can be in one year's time. As on that day, last year, Evan was in basic training and sad and trying to adjust to difficult surroundings far from home. Now, he is settled at Hurlburt Field and making friends and a name for himself. I am so proud.
And, not to be out done, Fiona, who doesn't care for the dire warnings about how Scotties can't swim, took her bossy self repeatedly to the edge and got soaked by waves that caught her off guard. But, did she care?! Not a bit.
Once, when I was having a rough time and nothing in my life seemed as though it was going in my favor, I was pouring my troubles out to a very good friend. I remember saying, "Every time I turn around I feel like it's raining shit and I don't have an umbrella!!!" I find that my language can be particularly colorful when I am feeling put upon.
Namaste' Till Next Time,
Today is the feast of the Epiphany in the Christian calender; the day that marks the ultimate destination of three wise men who journeyed for months, perhaps years, following a new star in the heavens. Following it only on a hunch...not facts.
I come from an age when good Catholic kids were expected to show up at their parish church every Saturday to make their confession. It was more or less required. You may not go every week, but it was almost mandatory that you go once a month.
If I could give you everything you wanted, I'd try. If I could grant your every wish, I'd try. If I could make your world right, I'd try. If I could bring peace, love, joy, hope, faith, I'd try.
