I like blogging, I do. But the last few months have been so crazy: traveling all summer and then settling back in, the start of a new school year for Cole and Tim, and me heading up the pastoral search at our church. I am busy with life here, but not exactly the parts I want to write about. On top of all these duties and distractions, so many things that I would share about living in Taiwan resist capture. I saw the most striking hue cast across the low clouds at sunset the other day – a typhoon was passing to the north of us, and our sodden skies had dried just a bit, with clouds like wet cotton absorbing the light and melding the colors into one giant sheet of violet across the sky. It gave a dull glow, unearthly, and completely unphotographable. It just looks grey on film.
In the same way, when I sit down to write I fear that anything I try to put in words will be diminished in the end. I feel like I am drawing from a shallow well, so now I am planning a time to get away, by myself, to fill my reserves. I have months of observations of Nora in my head, waiting to go into her journal; I have pieces of a scrapbook for Cole tucked into various drawers and closets; I have essays, poems, manuscripts, that I want to finish, maybe publish, but no energy to do it all. I forget sometimes that my nature is more introverted than I let on, but I think when I can't write it's clearly time to step away from all the hubbub and give my soul a little rest.
We have a week-long break in October, as Taiwan celebrates the founding of the R.O.C.. I am thinking of places I can go for a day or two, either in the mountains or by the ocean. Somewhere where I can sit and think and write. In the meantime, I am happy to be where I am, doing what I am doing. But I do see that it's not giving back to me as much as I am putting into it. Blogging will resume, eventually, but maybe just not yet.
Sunday, September 23, 2007
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