Yes, there's just too much noise for me, too. There is too much clever strategy in creating and advancing images, making contacts and connections. My friends on Facebook really don't need (or want) to hear my thoughts on daily events or news events. At times, in the blogger world, it seems there are people in little circles getting all worked up over something that is going on in those little circles while the vast majority of the world isn't even aware of the situation or the people talking about it. I didn't want to be permanently sucked into the orbits of those little worlds. Plus, any on-line reading takes time away from reading my never-ending and always-growing pile of books. Oh, and there's this life of mine I'm supposed to be living and experiencing. So, I post less on this blog and my food blog. I pulled back from deadlines and commitments as a contributor to sites. I still have bursts of time when I pin on Pinterest, but I use the ideas. It's so much less clutter than my old method of cutting out pictures and articles from magazines.
I still read the personal family blogs of friends, but as for other blogs, there is only one that I read regularly: SHIRT OF FLAME by author Heather King. I even check it nightly for new posts. Her latest post is almost a summary of why I seek out her writing amidst all that is out there. There is her true talent as a writer (who also has a blog), her honesty, and her knowledge of when she has really gained insight. She understands deep truth and the long periods of time it can take to come to such truth. That alone sets her memoirs apart from so many others. It always surprises me when someone tells me I should, or could, write a memoir. I know I haven't reached a point of really delving deep into what my life has taught me. I've barely reached below the surface and my posts on this personal blog are part of those excavations.
|The beginnings of my spaghetti sauce: it's not much until it's simmered for six hours.|
If I tried to highlight the best bits of the latest post by Heather King, I'd just have to cut-and-paste the whole thing, but this part, especially, is so true, and something for me to remember:
I have a huge ego. I'm overly, some might say, morbidly sensitive. I feel every slight, doubt, criticism keenly. I'm very much aware of status, or lack thereof: professional, social, literary. When I first converted, I was approached by a major publisher to write my story. I dripped my blood, sweat and tears over a proposal which, after many cliff-hanging months, was rejected. My disappointment was bitter. Yet the more time elapses, the more I see that nothing could have been more damaging than having received attention and acclaim early on simply for having converted. Converted to what? The fruit of conversion takes most of us many years, preferably of relative failure and invisibility, to even begin to form. (my emphasis added)
Thus, over the intervening eighteen years, I haven't curried favor; I've made friends. Not because I'm such a great friend, but because I NEED friends. Because at the end of the day, you need friends way more than you need success. Because friends are both a gift and a responsibility, and if you are not on a two-way street that requires you to give and to receive to the limit of your strength, you're missing out.
The interesting thing is that while you consent to appear out-of-step, irrelevant, and weak, your house is built on solid rock. You're marginally humble (if for no other reason than that the evidence overwhelmingly points in that direction) and you also have a weirdly unwavering sense, even if no-one else much does, of who you are IN CHRIST and of your worth. (my emphasis added)
Read the whole piece: