To Journal

Standard

My adventures have lead me to a river in the web. The bubbling stream flows under and over the pebbles of the blogging road on intersecting paths, but the stream also flows away to places I cannot reach.

I sit beside it and as I dip my hand in its cool water, I hear the snip-its of consciousness on the web. This is the special stream of people writing journals.

I swing my feet into the river and the raw feelings put down in words wash over me. I splash in its shallows and try not to be washed away by the minutiae of a single life.

To journal. To put down on paper a reflection of thoughts, feelings or events from your life, but I agree it is also fundamentally an exercise in learning about yourself. It is not only a written account of your experiences and thoughts, but an act that inches you closer to revelations of who you are and who you want to be.

I step into the depths of the river and am submerged in the lives of those sharing their hearts and words in their heads. The words flow freely and rapidly without a destination in mind. They pour memories and feelings into the river, not knowing what path it will carve out, and I am inspired to take a swim.

Dear journal, today I searched the wondrous web for inspiration and wrote a post. The small success of hitting that publish button, will fill me with pride, relief and then I know fear. Every day on this adventure, after every post, I feel afraid of what tomorrow will bring. Why did I start this journey? What did I hope to find? Maybe its best to return home. Pack away my blog in its little backpack and forget this little misadventure.

The daydreams that filled my head as I wondered into the web seem arrogant and fanciful. The words don’t always come out, the time to write each day seems to slip away too easily and in those moments, I am afraid. Am I afraid of failing the challenge? No worse, I am afraid of finishing the challenge, but having gained nothing. Of returning home the wearied traveller, but not the conquering hero.

There it is. The admission of guilt. There is the the fragile ego laid bare on banks of this river. The desire to be the hero in the story, to be special.

My head spins with the voice of a villain ready to cut down these dreams. It laughs at the presumption.

“Is there anything more hopeless than the average wishing to be special?” It scoffs. “The web is littered with a million blogs of the forgotten. The ordinary who will never be the extraordinary. Their wishing leads nowhere. They give up eventually and go back to leading their average lives.”

“Maybe” I hear myself reply and I am surprised at the resolve in my heart.

“But not today, though. Today, I am still here.”

Quest Objective: Add a dose of self-reflection into your blog

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *