I am more famed in Heaven for my works than I could well conceive. In my Brain are studies & Chambers filld with books & pictures of old which I wrote & painted in ages of Eternity before my mortal life; & whose works are the delight & Study of Archangels. Why then should I be anxious about the riches or fame of mortality. The Lord our father will do for us & with us according to his Divine will for our Good.
- William Blake, excerpted from a letter to John Flaxman, 9/21/1800 -
William Blake is a constant inspiration to me. The lines above, for instance, have remained with me a month or more after reading them. What a vision this man possessed, or was possessed by. If only I could share a meager ounce of that Sight. Thank God for people like Blake, to illumine the way for those of us who don't shine quite as bright.
We strive to shine, none the less.
I wish that I shared Blake's faith in a "Divine will for our Good". I feel that I should. I have that instinct, that hunger for God deep in the center of me. I know that there is something greater than my tiny self but I'm not convinced it gives a goodgoddamn about me. Sarah tells me that I am The Beloved of The Universe and I know in that same deep place that she is right. But where is my Faith in that Love?
I'm just dubious by nature, I suppose.
Something is moving in me, though. Divine Will or my own? It has fomented a decision which has been a long time brewing. Surely, I have lined this very space previously with words regarding my struggles in the trenches of the blogging vs. "Real" writing debate. Surely it was a debate still carried on within my heart and skull if not on this blog.
You see, I can't help comparing what I do with this blog and what I could, should be doing in a notebook, a word document. Blogging vs. writing. It is, of course, a ridiculous proposition. This blog offers definite creative rewards and might just give to the world more than I can know. How can I measure the value of blogging?
But even as I type these words in favor of blogging I feel that they are a defensive fence -I feel compelled to set it up because I believe in it, but it will snap and break under greater truths.
The writing of poetry and stories is of greater worth to me than the maintenance of this blog. But the on-line reading and writing known as blogging is occupying 89% (according to recent studies) of my creative time.
There are stories untold languishing behind my eyes. Poor Jarny has been left hanging between life and death in an elevator for more months than I can remember. Ideas for short stories blossom and wilt from lack of nurturing in my brain. The narrative that was born in this space as two initially separate vignettes is beginning to clamor for my attention.
It is, as I say, an attention divided. It is battle enough for me to indulge The Muse against the well of idleness that sucks at my aspirations and ambitions. This blog, the reading and writing of blogs, is a distraction I am beginning to see I can do without. I must write down, or at least try to, those stories in my head.
It is maddening, in its way, to glimpse them there, waiting to receive my gaze, to show me places and faces I will never know if I don't look soon. It is a gift, I know, the ability to see through to that place where dreams and stories come from. It is not a gift I wish to squander.
Unlike Blake above, I am unsure of the status of my immortal works in Heaven. I can't say if the Angels are shaking their heads in wonder or disgust. So I gotta' keep trying. Toward that end I make the following personal and public declaration:
After not unlengthy consideration, I state that hereby and henceforth this blog will relieve itself of its weight, both social and creative, upon me. Blogging in general will take a secondary place in whatever passes for my scheme of things. I will update this space on a regular if not frequent basis - say once a week or so. Blog reading, or rolling as I suppose it's called, will not cease but may become erratic. I am refocusing energy. I am painting stripes on tigers. I am pinning dragons to the edges of maps. I am, in the words of Shriekback, "Hauling the Kraken up with blocks and chains".
Wish me luck, folks.
And remember. . . I'm still here. The notes are just being dispatched a little less frequently. I'm going inside to play.
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