About my (infrequent) blogging

Just the other day, I looked back at my blog and my last post is from June 2018...the only one this year.

I asked myself: does the frequency of my blog posts put into question the very idea and purpose of having a blog? And why do I write so infrequently lately? Do I have nothing to say anymore?

This blog post is my way of checking in with myself and with all of you out there. How are you all doing? I hope you are all doing well. Today I offer you a lovely meditation mantra I recently learned, because something kind is always worth spreading:

May you be healthy,

May you be happy,

May you be safe,

And may you live with ease.

And as to my questions for myself, here is what I think:

Is this still a blog if it only has a handful of entries a year?

I say yes. Because who makes the rules? I make the rules - at the top of each page it says “my life as I know it.”

And do I have nothing to say anymore?

No. That’s definitely not the case. I have a lot to say. In fact, at the moment I have too much to say and all of those things are crowding my mind and, at times, crushing my soul. But here is the challenge and a dilemma: All of these thoughts seem life-altering, critically important, searing into my psyche AND, at the same time, I can’t seem to find the right words to describe what I am feeling/thinking. Current state of the world and life, seems to be incompatible with my language skills.

So, for now, my dear friends, until my left and right brain hemispheres will be again be on “speaking terms,” I will simply leave you with a quote from Elie Wiesel, a Romanian-born American Jewish writer, professor, political activist, Nobel Laureate, and Holocaust survivor. This is from his last book (he died two years ago) called “Open Heart.” Because Elie Wiesel's wise words are ALWAYS worth repeating.

“We must choose between the violence of adults and the smiles of children, between the ugliness of hate and the will to oppose it. Between inflicting suffering and humiliation on our fellow man and offering him the solidarity and hope he deserves. Or not. I know—I speak from experience—that even in darkness it is possible to create light and encourage compassion. That it is possible to feel free inside a prison. That even in exile, friendship exists and can become an anchor. That one instant before dying, man is still immortal. There it is: I still believe in man in spite of man. I believe in language even though it has been wounded, deformed and perverted by the enemies of mankind. And I continue to cling to words because it is up to us to transform them into instruments of comprehension rather than contempt. It is up to us to choose whether we wish to use them to curse or to heal, to wound or to console.”