Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting:
The Soul that rises with us, our life's Star,
Hath had elsewhere its setting,
And cometh from afar:
Not in entire forgetfulness,
And not in utter nakedness,
But trailing clouds of glory do we come
From God, who is our home:
Heaven lies about us in our infancy!
Shades of the prison-house begin to close
Upon the growing Boy,
But He beholds the light, and whence it flows,
He sees it in his joy;
The Youth, who daily farther from the east
Must travel, still is Nature's Priest,
And by the vision splendid
Is on his way attended;
At length the Man perceives it die away,
And fade into the light of common day.
-- William Wordsworth --
I stop blogging when I'm unwell. I can just about cope with the chores of daily life - being a mother, a homemaker, a wife - and my strength is totally consumed by obligations (some of them sweet) during my "not so good" periods (yes, having fun requires a bit of stamina). Some people turn to blogging as a form of therapy, some blog because they have a message for whoever stumbles upon them, some just need to share their thoughts and feelings and extend their circle of friends, others do it for money or a bit of attention. I fall into none of these categories. I started blogging for a handful of people most of whom can no longer read my blog. I then tried the therapy justification, but the words I should write instead of the ones I want to write just don't come that easily to me. Cutting, pasting and sharing interesting stuff from elsewhere in the Internet is now much more easily done through facebook, google reader, stumbleupon and similar platforms. I don't know... Where do I go from here? I might give the therapy aspect another try...
Street Art by David Zinn
3 hours ago