Just like I go through my e-mail spam folders to make sure truly important e-mails haven’t been diverted into the bin, I sift through the spam comments folder on my blog. Occasionally there is a comment that may be genuine and from a real person who reads my blog and has commented. How can you tell? Usually the spam comments have fractured English, inaccurate syntax and when read aloud sound like a student in a ESL class. Also, they are usually wanting me to link to their Viagra or sexual enhancement sites. But on occasion, a comment arrives that sounds so authentic I think maybe it’s not spam. What does it matter? The traffic on this blog is minute. I have and have had the same general core of readers for five years. There isn’t gaggle of people catching me on their RSS feeds and even if there were, it’s not a blog that incites commentary. Nor is that my intention I realize. My goal, my purpose, my intention is simple to make my observations ‘aloud’. Te world is full of ranting and ravings. The news cycle is jam packed with the unworthy non-news stories served up as news. The sensationalism and inflammatory nature is almost uniformly targeted at the outrage, the shame or the angry. I want to lift up the good, the beautiful, the lovely, the whimsical and worthy so as to cultivate hope and joy and gratitude. I also have needed to speak of the sorrows and adversities so as to frame up why they make the good things in life so much sweeter.
If your goal is to lift up the good and to avoid the pitfalls of complaining about the rough patches but you are somewhat stuck in the neutral buffer zone of The Swiss, indifferent and ambivalent, then you have little to share. That is when my blog runs for days without posts or new additions. It is also when I must reassess. It isn’t the lack of comments or followers that causes my disheartening position. It is my real life and the impotent, powerless, stuck position which I occupy for many months. While I think the Land of Stuck is soon to end and I will regain my momentum and my dreams will be released from their bindings, I am hesitant – nay, afraid – to allow myself to be upbeat and hopeful. What if my hope is dashed? I just don’t have the energy to cheer myself back up. I also don’t have the followers that cheer me on. Even if I did, the happy, supportive comments can’t make the circumstances in my daily world move forward. Until those things start moving, I am stuck and find cheerfulness somewhat false and feigned. I am not a “fake it til you make it” kind of girl.
But the bold truth is this: momentum is coming. I can feel it. I feel the pressure building. Energy is stored in the coiled position and there will be a day when it will fling me is a thrilling arch across the sky. And that day is soon……I can feel it. But until they tell me to put on my helmet, I am flat. I remain indifferent and my blog, my trumpet, my tambourine is silent and still.
But good news is coming. I can feel it.