Promises to Ourselves

When I decided to start a blog, I did it because it looked like fun and I wanted a format in which to produce writing outside of emails and the stuff I do for school. I promised myself I would keep it up until the end of the year, and that time is fast approaching. There have been times I have been quite inspired to post, and others (is this one of them?) when I've posted mostly because I thought it was time. From what I understand from others who do this, regular posts are essential, some even say that it becomes addictive. At any rate, it seems important to post in order to keep the conversation going. The trouble is, there hasn't been much conversation! This isn't intended to produce a "guilt trip." I hear from friends that there are readers who aren't inclined to respond, and that's fine. I must admit I had visions of provoking lively discussion and conversation via the web, but reality has since set in, and I don't fault anyone for not finding the time or inspiration to respond. That may say more about the blogger than the readers!

Keeping promises to ourselves is often more difficult than keeping those me make to others. I can withstand the internal pressure of disappointing myself far more easily than I can face the idea that I've messed up with a friend or colleague. A therapist could have a field day with that one. Regardless, I decided today that I'll try to continue blogging through the winter. Midwestern winters can be desolate times, even for the optimists among us; I certainly am tempted to fall victim to demons that lurk in the the dark and the cold. In my Creative Writing class, we talk about the restorative, cathartic, and transformative effects of writing, so I'll keep at it for now. Bring on the restoring, the catharsis, and the transformation! At least until spring, when I'll consider letting nature take its course and do that work for me.

I guess I should say something about Christmas! I'll be leaving tomorrow to visit my family in northwest Iowa. I'm pouting a bit, as I had visions of spending the holiday with my daughter in Austin, Tx this year. I miss her terribly, but alas, it wasn't in the cards for me this season. So, I'll drive west over the flat geography of Minnesota, conjuring up some Christmas spirit as I dip down into Iowa. I'll find myself back in my hometown and the bosom of my family of origin. There's a soothing familiarity in that place where I'm always welcome and nothing ever changes much. I'm sure that after the holidays, friends and colleagues will ask about my time off. Garrison Keillor, in his wisdom about the somewhat droll personalities of those of us raised on the Midwestern prairie, provides an apt response for this half-Norwegian woman who now calls herself a Minnesotan: "Can't complain."

My wish this season is that you may say the same, and Peace, to all.