How do we know when something we are doing is worth continuing? When it pans out? When it doesn’t? When it gets easier, or perhaps harder, to manage?

I’ve been blogging for months and the added practice has made my writing more fluid and (I’m told) verbally rich. I’ve encountered having too much, and not enough, to say. I’ve had to consider what to report and how people reading that material might respond. I am not always right in deciphering that conclusion. That sought after balance comes from posting information personal and authentic enough to be of interest to readers, while not being so personal and authentic as to offend. These are sliding waters on shifting sands because lines can vary drastically depending on the topic and the person.

My postings have certain objectives in common. That they be: meaningful and of interest (to me and hopefully others), heartfelt, and real. If there is an issue with a post (thankfully that number has been minuscule) then I must ask myself; Did I over-expose? Are those involved being too sensitive? Am I not being sensitive enough? An inquiry into these and other possibilities ensues as I examine myself and what I choose to write about. In the process my awareness, knowledge and sensibilities are explored and expanded. I’m pushed to consider another’s feelings more fully even though I thought I already had. We humans, in our uniqueness and diversity, can see facts or just life references with infinite nuance and variety. While I strive to maintain integrity, there is a thin line between the freedom to write about what I experience (and those with whom I experience it) and the mindfulness of another’s boundaries regarding that experience. This is a work still in progress.

The underbelly of this lesson began with the death of my parents and a possible memoir about my participation in that part of their lives. It is exceedingly personal and without those moments the book would hold no power, it would be a boring chronicling of events (although perhaps not as a medical study). It is the personal, the heartfelt, the emotional, that brings the pages to life in a way that makes someone want to read them. I believe the same holds true for a blog.

I will work to keep my awareness heightened, it is the least I can do for my public (humanity) and private (individual) evolution. But, it does beg the question; How can poignant poems and moving memoirs get written without the exposure of those who influence our lives? For a writer, meaning sprouts from the absorption of the observed to the written expression of the perceived.