Tuesday, September 27, 2016

Thoughts, Deep And Otherwise

It's funny how little I feel like writing these days. Funny. And disturbing to me. The writing has always been the thing that keeps me from feeling as if I am falling through the arms of the universe to the vast nothingness below. And I'm not sure why it is, this reluctance to write. Do I feel as if I have nothing to say? Nothing new to say? Am I censoring myself too much to make the writing feel genuine? Not censoring myself enough?
It's a fine line, that one, between too much revealing and not enough. I cringe sometimes when I read the things people write, especially if the writer's children may be reading those things. This may be wrong-thinking, I may have become a prude in my old age or may have always been one, but still, I admit, I do believe that there are things about their parents which children just don't need to be enlightened to. I have always tried to be honest with my own kids about my life, to a degree, but there are things that they just don't want to hear, just as there are things about their lives which are none of my business and which I don't want to hear. I love that we can joke about a lot of subjects which were necessarily off-limits (in my house, at least) when they were young but which we can giggle about and relate to with each other now. But even still, there are other people involved and there is a part of me which feels quite strongly that at least when we are discussing sex, that it is a thing which is shared by two people (well, in most cases, not always) and part of the bond of it is the keeping of it within the relationship.
This is ours. It belongs to no one else.
Not in word or deed.

But sex isn't the only thing I feel shy or resistant to writing about. We all, I think, keep certain things to ourselves. Things we may not be proud of or things we are too afraid to say out loud lest they be taken from us or dreams that we may have which seem too farfetched or ridiculous or...whatever...to admit to. Sometimes it's even a matter of not writing about things because if we said them out loud they might sound like bragging. And that is our right, you know. Just as Johnny Depp does not owe the world details about his personal life, neither do we.

These blogs, once so popular, are becoming less and less so as people move to even quicker and less complicated (emotionally and literarily, at least) outlets for sharing: to Facebook and Instagram and whatever else there is now. Snapchat? I don't know a thing about that. But still- I feel that it is a huge pleasure and an honor to be able to read whatever thoughts we may be given by others. Things which touch the incredibly painful, the incredibly joyful, the hopeful, the despairing, the very, very real.
And sometimes I think it is enough that we who do continue to blog, paint in the outlines as best we can and allow others to take what they can from it, to fill in their own details, to fill the spaces we leave with their stories and hopes and dreams and shames and blessings and deeds and thoughts.

Isn't that, in a way, what poetry is?

We all have such different styles. We all come to the page with different needs and beliefs and interests and experiences.
Especially the experiences.
And for me, one of the grandest things about the community I have found here is discovering that although so many of us may have experienced different things, at heart, we are so much the same. And that we have so much to learn from each other.

But in the meantime, as some of us may struggle with this need to write, this need to communicate, this need to share it all, it is so easy to simply say, "Today I did this and I did that," and maybe even to drop a feeling about it all here and there, and then to move on.

I feel as if I have been doing that lately.
And it doesn't make me happy and I don't know that it makes anyone else happy either.

Today I went to town and met up with my daughters at the mall and we did have fun. Even if it was the mall. And for me, it was mostly the fact that I was out in public with my beautiful girls and two of their babies and we laughed and were silly.

To see how my children love each other and get along so well. To know that despite my constant grinchy harping about the mall and how much I hate it, they love me too. To play with the babies, to pass them from one to the other, to make them laugh in their strollers. 

To make them try on ridiculous things.

Whether they like it or not.

They are precious to me, these people whom I gave birth to and to whom they gave birth. All day I kept thinking about how 31 years ago I birthed my Lily and how here she is- this mother, this force of nature.

Lord knows I've done my job and yet, there is that part of me which wants to do more, even if that more is nothing but loving and loving and loving.

And appreciating.
Maybe that is the most important.

I don't know. I don't know much and as I grow older, I know even less but that which I am sure of, I grow more sure of every day.

So, well, there you go. Some thoughts, some pictures.

Writing. Whatever.

Here I am. Or my words, at least. Fill in the details as you wish.

And I'd like to quote something that Emily Dickinson, that homebody poet, said that a good friend of mine sent me yesterday.

"To live is so startling that it leaves little time for anything else."

Absolutely. And which requires (in my case) a lot of naps. And which, for some reason, I feel I must write about.

Love...Ms. Moon


  1. I was thinking that the other day. What would it be like if these people stopped writing, or even slowed down, as one of my fav. blogs has? How would my life change? I think I've been reading you for a good 7 years, so obviously I think I "know" you. I've read the hard times, the very hard times, the good ones and just about everything in between. I still find you vastly interesting, no matter what you write about. When you talk about the mundane, it never strikes me that way. I can honestly say I don't think I've ever felt bored with one of your posts.

    It is also, for me, like being a part of something. I don't have family or anyone to turn to to say "How was your day?" So to come here, and to other blogs, and sort of check in is very comforting. I'm sure I wouldn't feel that if I didn't love you in a way, so that is important too. To have someone out there who cares enough to share a part of their day with me makes me feel loved in a way too. To slow down is only natural, especially if you've been doing it a long time, but (no pressure..ha)if you stopped all together, that would definitely have an effect on my life. Nothing lasts forever, that is life, but I sure do hope there is still a lot of Mary to come.

  2. Mary, Mary, Mary. I love what you write. I come to my computer in the morning with my coffee or tea to hear what you have to say. I feel like you are talking to ME. I've been reading you for a long time though I don't often comment. I really feel like I'd have lost a friend if you stopped writing!

  3. I don't hear you say you are going to stop writing or my brain just won't go there. You are my friend now. I care about you and your whole family. It's a daily visit. I'll take anything you've got and I'm happy. You are just my Mary and I love my Mary.

  4. They really are so gorgeous, those kids of yours. I was looking at my 15 year old and seeing what a beautiful being he is, it's amazing!
    I sometimes feel a similar way and start to say nothing, just watch and experience and feel and see what comes up in me without saying it out loud. It becomes a path that I have to eventually make a point of breaking out of though it feels very comfortable.

  5. I hope you never stop writing. I, and so many others need you. Is that selfish? Maybe a little.

    I hope there will always be blogging. I am on Facebook now but not really enjoying it all that much. It is a time sucker. As I have always said about Facebook, it is not keeping us in touch but out of touch with one another.

  6. It's okay not to write sometimes, I think. And I know that it's been hard for me to blog lately--well, ever since moving here, and ever since I have felt like my life, and what I say about my life, doesn't just affect me any more. And also how the narrative has changed and I'm not sure how to write that. But god, i'm so glad for blogs, for yours, for all the people I've met through reading you. The ordinariness of all of it is a testament to the fact that our lives MATTER. The stuff that the outside world says doesn't matter, or is trivial or is too minor to matter (maybe the female stuff? yes--I think that's what these blogs, yours, do for me, they tell me that a woman's life matters). Anyway, rambling. But so glad you are here and are writing and not-writing sometimes.

  7. My own words have been dried up for some time now. I think I used to be more confident of my own worth than I am now, perhaps. Hmm.

    Magnolia looks like a teenie Communist dictator in that black hat. And the photo of Jessie is brilliant.

  8. Well this post and these comments rock, Mary. I have slowed down but have no intention of stopping. I sure hope you won't either!

  9. I agree 100% with what Liv wrote, I for one, hope you never stop writing.

  10. Mary I would miss you so much if you stopped writing. I come here every day to see how you are and however you show up is perfect, no matter what you write about, I am happy and interested to hear it. I think I slow down in my blogging when I start judging what I'm writing, and imagining others are judging it too. The thing is I don't judge anyone else the way I judge me and when I let that judgement hamstring me, then I'm shutting down my own outlet and place of healing, because the friendships I have made here are powerfully healing, to know that beyond the specifics of experience we are the same under the skin. It's powerful. And the love I feel for you and your family at this point is so real. So I hope you will keep writing about anything that is true for you in the moment and I will keep reading, always. Trust me, Facebook, Instagram, snapchat, they are not the same. The sharing is not as deep or as true. Please don't stop writing. I don't plan to stop either even though I do get shy sometimes. But I wont stop writing because I'd miss my friends here too much. So let's keep gathering around the table, holding hands, enlarging our worlds, deepening them. I love you so very much. Always.

  11. there are times when I don't have much to say, wonder if I'm running out of interesting stuff and just repeating myself. I don't post nearly as often as you do but I do try to post 2 or 3 times a week. and yeah, some of it is this is what I did today. I don't seem to be telling stories as much as I did at first or editorializing on current events. oh well. ultimately I guess my blog is for me so I guess I'll keep it up as long as I enjoy it.

  12. I think it's natural to hit a "dry spell" when you wonder if what you're writing is really up to par, or what you want to say, or otherwise doubtful. I certainly go through those spells. I for one admire you for your frankness and your openness. I think you walk the line between revealing too much and not enough in just the right place.

    I often think I've fallen into the "today I did this" vein -- and then I think, well, is that so bad? I mean, as long as we try to imbue it with some element of feeling and/or humor, it is what it is, you know? It's life.

    I quit blogging for a while about six years ago and I remember how surprised I was when so many people protested and said they'd miss me. I didn't think anyone was paying much attention at all! You'd be surprised to know how many followers are out there who would miss you should you stop. (Including me!)

    Life is routine. But routine is comforting -- even when it's someone else's routine that we have made our own.

  13. Loving and appreciating IS the most important. I say that as a girl who was fortunate to be close to my grandparents when I was young and as a parent who is so fortunate to have my kids' grandparents (my parents) close and involved.

    I think sometimes about writing again. I seem to be in a word-free space.


Tell me, sweeties. Tell me what you think.