Blogging is like walking down a street by yourself at night – alone in a strange but enticing world of shiny lights and dark shadows. You walk past establishments full of people laughing and dancing, you walk past dark, shuttered homes, their world closed to you and you hear a baby crying and wonder where her mother is. You see a young couple kissing in the shadows, you notice the way the light plays among the leaves of the tree, moving gently in the breeze. All this is content from someone else’s head that draws you momentarily partly into their world while still stuck in your own. People are laughing, dancing, singing, crying, loving, chanting, raving, venting, wondering, experimenting, meditating, arguing. You make up stories in your head about why the baby is crying, you remember being the young couple just discovering the sudden joys of such intimacy. You are part of their world for a moment, yet as you pass by, they are already doing something entirely else.
If we are nothing else, we writers are also readers, loving the momentary transport into another’s world.
So here am I, inside my own head and fingertips (yes, sometimes those fingertips tell me so much I didn’t know I thought or felt in any ordinary waking state) and now I am inside my world and you are walking by. If you happen to be walking by, will you hear the baby cry or notice the leaves and will it mean anything to you in your world?
One can only hope to say something that draws you in so that, for a moment, our worlds are like the center of a venn diagram…where that in me and that in you become momentarily that in us.