A little over a year ago, I was in the exact same position I find myself in this Tuesday afternoon.
I was launching a blog that I shared widely with my friends and extended network, which lead me to produce content multiple times a week and enjoy a daily routine intertwined with my long-standing love for writing.
I began a new job in March that demanded a different set of skills, a considerable amount of energy and writing fell to the wayside. Along with it, my vision for my old blog and it’s readers.
So the story goes.
I’m here once again for the same reason that I imagine others return again and again to the sea.
Writing, in it’s unique ability to wash away the debris of the non-creative life, allows me to reestablish what matters most. It helps me redeem things I don’t understand in this unsteady world and gives way to stillness when the clamor of living proves deafening. I can depend on the ocean returning to kiss the shore no matter how many times a day it is sent away, just as I return to words again and again in my exploration of beauty and the human spirit.
Whether anyone visits does not matter. After all this time, it’s still the sea and me.