When I first began journaling here, I kept the comment link open and there was lots of lively conversation. And then suddenly the comment gadget on this blog malfunctioned and the comments on all of my posts kept disappearing.
In the morning I'd find a long string of comments, and I responded to each one, and the next day the all of the comments and my responses were gone. As if they washed in and then out again like seashells rolling in and out with the tide.
I began to think of comments as writing in the sand, here in the morning and gone with the tide by afternoon. I also got to thinking about how I wanted to save those comments, like I once collected shells along the shore, my pockets bulging. Then I discovered the joy of collecting less, and silence, and feeling happy empty, or full, open to what comes and goes, like the beach. And that's when I decided to keep the comments closed, and to set my readers free.
I began to think of comments as writing in the sand, here in the morning and gone with the tide by afternoon. I also got to thinking about how I wanted to save those comments, like I once collected shells along the shore, my pockets bulging. Then I discovered the joy of collecting less, and silence, and feeling happy empty, or full, open to what comes and goes, like the beach. And that's when I decided to keep the comments closed, and to set my readers free.
While feedback and conversation can be a nice thing to enjoy, silence is not always an easy thing to find. I want my readers to feel welcome to stop by, lurk and explore within cubby-hole moments of quiet, without anyone feeling obligated to say anything.
But if you would like to make a comment, or have a conversation, please feel welcome to send me an email.
