This is my One-Hundredth Blog Post.

One Hundred Musings,

Explorations,

Journeys,

Wonders,

Political Rants,

and Heartfelt Offerings.

As I start to write this, sitting in an airport,

a family with two screaming wailing children comes and sits right next to me.

I write anyway.

Just as with any 100^th Birthday or Anniversary,

it seems a good moment to pause and take stock.

What is all this?

 

People have told me I need to read other Blogs and be more like them.

I have held off on that in an attempt to find my own voice.

Now, for better and for worse, I feel this is what it is and I am ready to begin reconnoitering in the Blogosphere.

 

I have been told that my Blog Posts are too long.

They are.

I write anyway.

 

I have asked, “But aren’t people interested in the deeper exploration of an idea?”
I have been told in no uncertain terms, “NOOOOOO.”

I write anyway.

 

I have been advised that what I write has no clear category and that Blogs about Recipes and New Babies and the Bible and Pets and Weddings build a following much more quickly.

I write anyway.

 

I have gotten onto FaceBook.

Something I never thought I would do.

Shortly after I started this Blog, a Computer Repair Man with Rastafarian Curls was working in my Office, at the very moment as I was joining FaceBook.

“What Da Hell Ya’ wanna go and do dat NOW for?” he asked.

“You hold out a little longer, and you could become famous as da last man not on da Facebook! Dey’d be interviewing you on da TV!

…I wouldn’t do dat Now if I was you!”

I post segments from my Blog entries onto FaceBook

inviting people to click the link to read more.

When I posted about Why I Teach in the Computer Generation https://livethequestionsnow.com/2015/05/24/why-i-teach/ , a girl commented,

“This rhetoric is so old already.”

It was apparent that she hadn’t read the BlogPost, but only the FaceBook teaser.

Oh.

More recently, in my last post about using recycled Paper Products https://livethequestionsnow.com/2015/10/30/do-what-you-can/ , someone commented,

“This is art how?”

Ouch.

 

I replied, “This is Writing. Writing is Art. Sometimes it succeeds as Art. Sometimes it Fails as Art. But it is all in the Attempting.”

And that is what this has taught me.

 

It is all in the Attempting.

Making time for this is not without cost.

Yet, I pay that cost week after week.

I am a bit of a techno-idiot.

I’ve no doubt a lot of people could post an entry in half the time.

I write anyway.

 

I attempt it.

I fail.

I write anyway.

 

Some of these now-hundred posts are not my favorites.

They have received a surprisingly positive response.

Some are posts about which I feel quite proud.

They have received no response.

I kill my darlings.

I write anyway.

 

Some might say I have gotten better at this since I started doing it.

Some might disagree.

Strongly.

I write anyway.

 

Sometimes I don’t understand the point.

I write anyway.

 

Sometimes I have a need to be heard.

Sometimes, I just want to crawl under a rock and hide.

I write anyway.

 

Sometimes I think about when I’m gone.

What shall I have left behind?

If nothing else,

I shall have written Anyway!

I thank Every One of you who has ever read a word I’ve written.

or commented.

or supported me.

I thank those of you who were angered by or didn’t like my posts

And who had the Courage an the Willingness to take a moment to say so.

I thank my friend PATRICE, the Computer Goddess, who showed me where the little “page break for more” button is and gave me a thousand helpful tips for getting these Words to You.

I thank her niece ROBYN http://redmuse.com who worked with me to develop my Logo for this site.

I thank BEKAH http://weliveinspired.com for creating “Weaving Wondrous Websites” and for responding to the Universe’s prompts to get me to take her Class because it was Everything I needed.

I thank WordPress for Existing and helping CyberIdiots like me get our work out there.

I thank SARK http://planetsark.com for being a constant inspiration and a Beacon of Light and Hope to all who have something to say, and for the years of Mentoring to make this possible. In a World of “SHUT UP,” she is the Angel of “SING OUT, LOUISE…”

I thank Everyone on Planet SARK for encouraging me to have a BLOG and for leaving me no other option but to Try.

I thank my Partner for his ridiculously generous and supportive and Colorful BrushStrokes on the Canvas of My Life —

for the Gift of My First WorkShop with SARK,

for the Gift of this Most Recent One,

and for calling me “Writer” when I feel unworthy of the appellation.

(Though really, do non-writers use the word, ‘appellation?’)

I thank everyone who has Followed,

Liked,

Made a Comment,

Responded to,

or Read even a word of this Blog.

Your contribution is inestimable and I am more Grateful than you will ever know.

I thank my MOM who every time I take a picture of her or our dinners together and tell her, “It’s for my BLOG,”

smiles and says affirmingly, “O.K.” with slightly raised eyebrows that say,

“I don’t know what that is, but if it makes you happy, I support you!”

It takes a Village.

It takes unceasing Miracles, which fortunately are Available in Great Abundance.

It takes Trust and Courage and Discipline and Faith

and all of the Good qualities I hope to develop by doing this.

I feel I have only begun to scratch the surface of these qualities.

I write anyway.

 

Working in theater has taught me that the final collaborator is the Audience,

without whom there is no alchemy;

The experience is otherwise incomplete —

no matter how much you have worked and no matter all you have put into it.

Without that final collaborator, it cannot happen.

I feel that here.

And so, to you who read these words, I am Most Grateful!

It is for You, I write.

It is for the experience of this Collaboration

This Alchemy

This Gift we Share

Changing One Another

Listening

Hearing One Another

Opening up

Sharing our Hearts

Shaping the World

Our coming together is the pebble tossed in the ocean rippling outward,

affecting the tides,

the effects of this Alchemy reaching places it may never be our privilege to see.

It is for this a Write.

It is for the Possibility of this

I write anyway.

 

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