Interesting how this blog was working better as a private journal. As soon as I went public (i.e. told Dom) I started 'writing for' instead of 'writing about' and I lost the momentum of introspection. But yesterday I was lying on my yoga mat listening to stories. Don't worry, I was still in the Floment, but stories were rising... and I listened and let them go like a good yogini. Anyway, I realised I still needed this space. I am so full of stories and they clutter me up. Yoga is physically, mentally and emotionally easy for some and hard for others.
Hard for me. But good for me too - helps me sift through the stories and let them go. But ultimately when you struggle with yoga you need more than one mat.
Today I am getting up close and personal with my self-help habit. I have been looking for answers for years but seem no closer to finding them than when I first began to look. Could it be that the search is futile?
I was wondering, if you once blogged regularly do you always long for it? Time and time again I am drawn back to Imagine the North, although sadly - as the many false restarts will attest - I seem unable to capture the former magic. I guess we have moved on (and away) from blogging. The closest thing I have to it is Instagram. Like ItN my Instagram account provides me of diary of partial highlights; but still, I miss the text, the insight (my own insight gained through the act of putting a thought into words, a small concept with a beginning, middle and end) and the comments from friends.
Anyway here I am again, giving the old corpse of my blog a tentative poke with a stick, wondering if it is too far gone to resurrect.