Growing up at the shore, and spending a lot of time, therefore, in boats, we talked a bit now and then about people who had a tough time getting their "sea legs"... the ability to walk on deck given the pitching and rolling of a boat or a ship. I seem to be having trouble getting my blogging sea legs these last months. Given the pitch and roll of day to day life as an uncloseted pastor, I haven't yet figured out how to walk these planks.
If I analyze the frequency of posting, I see that I am pretty prolific in the following kinds of situations:
I am about to make an enormous and terrifying life change. (See February-May 2009).
The church is in the midst of one of its particular seasons. (Advent, Lent--- see most Decembers, February-April 2009).
I am in pain. (See last week).
Ordinary time, especially in these days when this blog is no longer titled "Closeted Pastor", is, well, ordinary. And I don't seem to have the brain space to think of anything particularly worth recording here.
But I would seem to be addicted to blogging. It might be the comments-- it truly excites me and comforts me and encourages me and challenges me to read what this cyber-community has to say. I get something here I don't get anywhere else.
Beloved suspects it's all about narcissism.
Now, you have to understand about Beloved. She is late to the whole blogging enterprise as a viable time expenditure. In fact, she's still on the fence, despite having sent me this, with some amount of glee, last week. So I have my closest adult relationship, my one-and-only love, somewhat skeptical (to say the least) that blogging is worthwhile, period.
She wonders why people blog, why we assume anyone else in the world could possibly be as interested in the mechanations of our own little mental hamster wheels as, well, as we ourselves. It must be narcissism. Says the one who loves me best.
But I don't see that out here in the blogosphere. I read blogs by intelligent, engaged women and men (admittedly, mostly of my own liberal persuasion), and I don't see narcissism there. I see people struggling to make sense of a world, a faith, a family, a loneliness, a wound, a situation... whatever it is... with honesty and courage.
In my own case, however. I gotta wonder if the n-word applies. (Narcissism. In case that wasn't clear.)
I do much of my blogging for the feedback. I admit it. I love having an audience. Hell, that's why, when I'm not in the pulpit, you might find me on a stage pretending to be a Japanese fury or a bumboat woman or a medieval chorister. I do love an audience. But I try to make that work for me, rather than against me, if you know what I mean. I know full well that I love an audience, so I engage in all sorts of discernment about how that plays out in the pulpit or at coffee hour, and I try to keep myself honest in all this.
I would like to be a more faithful correspondent in this space. I would like to feel as easy about it as I used to, like sitting down for coffee and a dish with my favorite pal. I would like these things. I will work on it.