The Newness of the Dance

“There are those who claim they can reconstruct a man from his smile. That’s why I am careful not to let my dental impression be molded in the putty of the air.”
-Aimé Césaire, “Solid”

I’m still not sure how to do this.

I suppose there’s always an awkwardness that comes with carving out a space for myself on the Internet. As low as the traffic is right now, the truth is that this blog is a public manifestation of myself as a human. Not the whole me, but enough of me to make me nervous. Maybe everything new just has a way of feeling as though it doesn’t quite fit yet, like a pair of new shoes that are just a bit too tight to be comfortable. I’ll have to break this little blog in. Gently, of course.

One thing I’m realizing is that there’s a necessary, delicate dance to learn here. The Internet is often a cold, reactionary, and dangerous place. That has never been more true than it has over the past few years. With that understanding comes a new anxiety, somewhat muted and distant, like watching a gray sky and wondering when the bottom’s falling out. How much should I reveal about myself, about my life? What should stay private? How much of this would anyone else even be interested in reading? Am I taking this far too seriously in the first place?

My personality tends toward taking everything very seriously, including myself. Especially myself. I’m a very private person, and the events of this past year have possibly solidified that. I doubt it’s going to change much. But, this is the second post. The fact that I’ve made it even this far is a good sign.

The interesting thing is that, at the moment, I’m really just talking — or writing — to myself. The fact that you’re reading this means that I’ve finally given another soul the link to this blog. At the time of writing, though, it's mainly this solitary oasis. I think that’s just what it needs to be for a while, for tonight.

I'm starting to realize that the process of even writing this is an act of meditation in itself. I’m having to let go of this idea of making everything perfect, finding a mind-blowing topic that’s going to change someone’s perspective every single post, winning the Nobel Peace Prize for something I wrote in a humble little blog that maybe five people will read in a month. Writing is like breathing for me — I can’t not do it. And now I’m doing it in public. I’m doing it out loud. That’s the only difference.

I’ve experienced a few instances of failure this year. This blog will not go down as one of those failures. I’m calling it right now: this is a win. This is a meditative win.

There’s nothing Nobel worthy from me… this week. Maybe next time. Until then, I’ll keep holding onto reasons to breathe. I hope you will, too.

-D.