I’m still not much of a swimmer. Very interested in what goes on underwater, but I never really learned to swim. I always found the water too cold and yes, I got out of the water north of Cairns, Australia; shivering with the cold after the dream-come-true snorkling on the reef. And you can’t tell the water temperature by just sticking your toe in. I’ve learnt that this week. There’s something to be said for getting right in, and getting the feel for the new environment.
Sometimes you can feel the tide has turned and this week has been one of those strange weeks when the blood suddenly starts to flow in a different direction than previous.
First we had the energies of Blog Hui going off like fireworks, and the writing workshops with Trevor Romain, my other brother. And then strange (but good things) things started to happen. Not one, but two people have contacted me about my writing here, making what I took to be encouraging noises. There’s been some other unexpected and good news as well, but I want to comment about the encouraging noises. Thank you folks, I’m flattered. And it was nice too, I’m not good at being slobbered over.
Actually, I was stunned, because I didn’t start writing for an audience, in fact we had discussions at the hui if a blog is a blog if no-one reads it. I wondered if my blog was a blog if I didn’t read it. An audience of one, and the one sometimes has a day off. But that apparently is not the case. People do read what I write, and people like what I draw. And that’s suddenly got import and implications I hadn’t expected.
Here’s the picture I’ve drawn in my head. There’s the hoary old question about is a glass half empty or half full. I might’ve even blogged about it. The answer is: it’s always full, just not always with liquid, sometimes it’s full of air, and sometimes half and half.
Let’s say you fill a bucket with water. Not to the brim, just full. And you stick you finger in, and then pull it out. What impact have you had? None, right?. Now this was the picture I’ve had about my blogging. I stick my finger in the blog world, write, pull my finger out and there’s no impact. Or so it seems.
But in fact the water is changed forever. Once the mini ripples die down, the water seems the same, but it’s different now to what it was. If there was a finger sized hole in the bucket and my finger was all there was stopping the water running out there would be an even bigger impact if I removed my finger.
And there it is. In a teeny tiny way, my writing has started to change the world. Yep, just a finger stuck in a bucket’s worth of change, but change never the less. Someone’s day is connected, someone’s day is uplifted, agreed, engaged. And that’s of some import and has implications I never considered before. David Bowie’s song ‘Changes’ has the line about watching the ripples change in size, but never leave the pond. Well, true, because a) the ripples are probably there forever in some quantum kind of way, or b) they haven’t finished the job they were sent here to do, or c) maybe that’s the butterfly wing effect in some taoist chaos kind of way.
I heard a number of people say at the hui that blogging has changed their lives. And it’s beginning to sound like a revival meeting, which sounds slightly like ‘run away!’ (As an aside, I aways wanted to go to one of those roll-in-the-straw, play-with-rattlesnakes type of revival meeting, complete with child preachers that heal me. At least I feel I could trust the snakes.) But here’s the deal. I am beginning to think that yes, blogging is changing my life. In ways I hadn’t expected. It’s changing other peoples’ lives as well, and as long as it’s for the better than that’s a good thing. But how’s the change come about?
I think it’s due in no small part to not being content to test it, dipping my toe in, but instead taking a flying jump, fetaling up, and bombing in for the max splash. Oh yeah, baby, watch my splash!
So, dear readers, what finger are you poking in what bucket today? You will make a difference, if you just jump in. Or even if you just poke your finger in.