On Words, Sporadic Blogging, and Why it Matters
This space feels equal parts foreign and familiar. You know how sometimes you leave something for so long that it feels silly to come back? I'm there every year with this corner of the internet. Attribute it to busyness, distraction, or (most likely) fundamental laziness—but whatever it is, I keep setting this down and picking it back up.
Since it's a new year, I've spent some time thinking about why I still come back to this thing. I’ve been asking myself a lot lately why I write at all—why it matters, what I want people to think or feel when they see these there-and-gone-on-the-timeline words.
When I first started working for a marketing company, I had to read an excerpt from a book entitled Nobody Wants to Read Your Sh*t. (true story; ask my boss.) It was all about how our words don’t hold any weight at all unless they really matter to others—unless we can convince them that the words mean something, that they’re worth it. Otherwise, no one cares.
Honestly, I’m not sure how much these words matter—I just know I have them. I don’t always know what I’m doing, how I’m going to get from Point A to Point B, or even what Point B actually is. I don’t know if I’m pursuing things for pleasure or for righteousness. I don’t know if I’m ever doing any of it “right,” or even well.
But I do know what I want people to get out of these words, and it’s these two things:
First - We are all of us so, so intricate and beloved. We have narratives that matter, stories worth telling. CEOs, executives, orphans, immigrants, people of color, LGBTQ people, women, Evangelicals, Muslims, atheists, whoever. Pick a label if you want, but tell me your story too. We are humans, all of us. We deserve to be seen. We deserve to be known. We deserve to be understood.
Second - Life is so, so much deeper than we let ourselves believe it is. There’s more to it than we settle for. I can’t tell you how completely I believe that—how much my heart breaks when we don’t chase the depth. We justify half-lives as if they’re enough, but they’re not. I want to live fully; I want to inspire others to get there, too.
If I could strip the journey, the hope, the passion into just a couple of things, I’d choose those.
I want to build shared narratives. I want to walk together.
I do know that’s not unique to me; I know we’re all sort of fighting for that in our own way, and this is just mine. It’s worth the reminder though—that there’s a reason I keep speaking into this abyss. That even if it seems like noise, it’s not.
So when I think of these words—when I release them to the world like birds to the sky—I hope that’s what they do. I hope they build bridges instead of walls.
Maybe this refinement of the goal will keep me on target this year, will keep pushing me forward to speak into this space more often. If yes, let's get started.
If not, see you all in January of 2021. I'm really not sure which one it's going to be yet—but I guess that's part of the fun. Thanks for sticking with me to the very bottom, you who did.
Since it's a new year, I've spent some time thinking about why I still come back to this thing. I’ve been asking myself a lot lately why I write at all—why it matters, what I want people to think or feel when they see these there-and-gone-on-the-timeline words.
When I first started working for a marketing company, I had to read an excerpt from a book entitled Nobody Wants to Read Your Sh*t. (true story; ask my boss.) It was all about how our words don’t hold any weight at all unless they really matter to others—unless we can convince them that the words mean something, that they’re worth it. Otherwise, no one cares.
Honestly, I’m not sure how much these words matter—I just know I have them. I don’t always know what I’m doing, how I’m going to get from Point A to Point B, or even what Point B actually is. I don’t know if I’m pursuing things for pleasure or for righteousness. I don’t know if I’m ever doing any of it “right,” or even well.
But I do know what I want people to get out of these words, and it’s these two things:
First - We are all of us so, so intricate and beloved. We have narratives that matter, stories worth telling. CEOs, executives, orphans, immigrants, people of color, LGBTQ people, women, Evangelicals, Muslims, atheists, whoever. Pick a label if you want, but tell me your story too. We are humans, all of us. We deserve to be seen. We deserve to be known. We deserve to be understood.
Second - Life is so, so much deeper than we let ourselves believe it is. There’s more to it than we settle for. I can’t tell you how completely I believe that—how much my heart breaks when we don’t chase the depth. We justify half-lives as if they’re enough, but they’re not. I want to live fully; I want to inspire others to get there, too.
If I could strip the journey, the hope, the passion into just a couple of things, I’d choose those.
I want to build shared narratives. I want to walk together.
I do know that’s not unique to me; I know we’re all sort of fighting for that in our own way, and this is just mine. It’s worth the reminder though—that there’s a reason I keep speaking into this abyss. That even if it seems like noise, it’s not.
So when I think of these words—when I release them to the world like birds to the sky—I hope that’s what they do. I hope they build bridges instead of walls.
Maybe this refinement of the goal will keep me on target this year, will keep pushing me forward to speak into this space more often. If yes, let's get started.
If not, see you all in January of 2021. I'm really not sure which one it's going to be yet—but I guess that's part of the fun. Thanks for sticking with me to the very bottom, you who did.
Comments
Post a Comment