To quote my teenage daughter's favorite anti-hero: "It's me, hi! I'm the problem, it's me."
I first encountered Patheos as a young-ish blogger, many years ago, at a time when I was also making my faith and life my own. I explored a lot of new ideas by the authors-of-then. I met with fresh perspectives and thought-provoking challenges; it was a season of growth and growing up.
As a result, I held Patheos with kind regard and the chance to join their ranks seemed like a good reason - perhaps even motivation- to write.
But the opportunity to write for them arrived in a different, more rooted season.
It is curious to look back and see how tall we've changed, how thick our bark.
"Further up, further in" as the Unicorn was heard to say.
I realized along the way that this whole journey is a continual forward motion until we reach the river's crossing. So, these days, with that established, unless someone asks, I have little worth a pitched-tent-stay.
Oh, I love to describe my own journey - the birds that are singing, the beauty around me.
Like journaling.
Writing for clicks and curating SEO put me in a different frame of mind - my words felt stilted and more "talking at" than "talking with" . . . more pontificating than sharing ... with more pressure to wrap endings up in pretty spiritual bows, too. All that to say, less natural.
I suppose my words @ Patheos will live on in the root-cellar-recesses-of-words-gone-by until the archives need sweeping to make room for new authors. And it is just as well. I have never felt it was my best work. The darker the dungeon, the better sometimes.
Meanwhile, I've opened the windows and scrubbed the baseboards on two or three of my many-fractaled blogs and will continue to offer field notes from there - whenever nature calls, without word counts or deadlines nor the pressure to package my words for optimal ad based revenue.
To write is to express myself - occasionally to run the levee dry.
I want to make much of living, if not much of a living.
You'll see my tip jar for coffee - but I've got to tell you the truth: even if it only fills with cobwebs and wooden nickels, I will continue to buy my own coffee and write words with wild abandon.
Because I do both for me, and share either freely with you.