have never been written let alone posted.
How can that be?
Simple. Most of my blogs are written in my head while my body is otherwise occupied.
My world has changed considerably in the last twelve months from one of doing to one of being.
Previously, I was active. Actively involved in a job I loved and was good at. Actively involved in my family. Cooking. Photography. Talking to friends. Having lunch with friends. My garden. Taking day trips with Papa Bear. Enjoying the family. Having barbecues and bonfires - which goes back to cooking. The rumour is that if you go away from my house hungry - it's your fault. Driving wherever whenever. My only limits - besides the fears I've been working through - were time and my own creativity.
Working full-time does crimp one's style - although it affords one the financial resources to have that style. A catch-22 situation. But one I was willing to live with. Besides, I got a kick out of interacting with people, handling problems situations and, in general, got satisfaction out of a job well-done at the end of the day.
And then came 2011. All of the above was stripped from me. My job: a thing of the past. Ditto my health, my energy. Even my self-worth, for a time, was stripped from me and I floundered badly. Trying to stay afloat in what felt like a never-ending sea of quicksand. Trying to suck me in and force me down.
Fatigue, weakness set in. It started setting in before the stressful situation in 2011 reached its peak. Like a slow slide down a long hill which couldn't stop. The slide itself wasn't dramatic. It was the boulder at the bottom of the slide which caused the damage. Damage I still hope to recover from. Damage I hope is reversible - in time. With patience.
My world now consists more of being. Although passive rather than active, being has some good points. For one, if I do make it someplace, people are thrilled to see me. It makes me take the time to "smell the coffee" or the roses. To enjoy the "little" things in life - like seeing butterflies in flight. Bumblebees having a convention in a patch of unknown purple flowers.
But while the body is weak, the mind is still active. Still able to think. Engaged in thinking while the body is otherwise engaged.
So while I lie in the bathtub in my daily oatmeal soak to alleviate the constant itching, my mind turns to what I'd like to write in my blog that day. In those 30 minutes, I can write the most fantastic blogs you've never read. Because by the time, I get up the motivation to write has gone down the drain with the bathwater. Even the memory of the words in my mind have disappeared. Maybe a kernel of an idea remains. A kernel I try to put into writing, but the words, the phrases, the impact elude me. Time and time again.
And so the best blogs remain locked in the prison of my mind - waiting to be released.