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Saturday, May 7, 2011

Why I Am Blogging Less, and Enjoying It More


By way of explanation to my longtime readers:  when I started this blog on a whim in 2008, in the midst of an emotional election campaign in this country, I had no definite plan of what to say or do with it; but among other thoughts that came to mind, it did seem at that moment like a great new way to excoriate and expose the follies of the world in general.  And for a time I did enjoy having a place to vent and rant and sound off on things that seemed to deserve comment.

But now, with me it's more and more a case of passion spent:  once past the half-century mark, you begin to notice the shadows slowly lengthening as the road turns homeward, the great hopes and adventures of youth all lying behind you now.  And you come to realize that it gains you very little to be continually upsetting yourself over things you can never hope to change.  The world is what it is, and one might as well try to stem the ever-flowing tide as to divert the course of human nature.  Il faut cultiver notre jardin, said Candide, and there is a great truth there.  "Work without disputing, for it is the only way to render life tolerable."

A fatalistic attitude, to be sure; not one that will ever recommend itself to people younger, more idealistic, or better placed to make a difference in the world.  But for some of us, a necessary attitude to retain some semblance of peace of mind through whatever years are left to us to enjoy here.  Unlike Tennyson's Ulysses, most bloodied veterans who have somehow survived the strife and struggles of life are content to sit quietly by their own fireside at the end of the long, long journey - that is, if contentment can be found anywhere in this uncertain, tumultuous world.  The unexamined life is not worth living, most assuredly; but once you have thoroughly examined it - and seen through it - a rest of heart and mind is needed.

I haven't lost all interest in current events, of course, and sometimes I still feel a need to comment on something or other; but less so now than when I started out.  A blog makes a bully soapbox, a miracle that countless writers of all persuasions who lived before the Internet age would have dearly loved to make use of.  But there's not much I have to say to the world that hasn't already been very well said by much greater minds; and if the world at large has ignored their counsel - or indeed, rewarded their trouble with a cup of hemlock - it certainly will take no notice of my small, obscure voice.  Which perhaps is just as well.

So this blog is evolving into something different from what it has been; what that is remains to be seen, and I still have no definite plan.  It remains an amusing hobby, a toy to pass the time with, nothing more.  But I thank my faithful readers for their interest and comments from time to time; even when one is saying nothing of any importance at all, it's always nice to feel heard.

Below, a handful of links to stories that illustrate, in one way or another, the ignorance, the foolishness, the blindness, the ugliness, the cruelty, the unreflecting self-righteousness of the human animal:  the very same stuff that was grist to the mill for Swift, Johnson, Twain, and others so well suited to puncture the pomposity of human vanity.  But the more things change, the more they stay the same.  Another time, I might have commented at some length on the implications of one or more of these items; but now I leave the essential points to the discernment of the reader. 

And if you don't get the real point of these things, which lies somewhere beneath the surface of the texts, well then - why should I spend the better part of a sunny afternoon trying to convince you?  If people lack the wit or imagination or depth of soul to see truths that are self-evident . . . well that's just very sad, isn't it?  The long, sad, troubled story of mankind, which needs no comment from me in the late afternoon of a glorious spring day, with lillies and roses blooming just outside my front door.

The New York Times:  A smoking ban too far

Americablog News:  Coffee, sex, exercise, or blowing your nose can trigger a stroke

The Globe and Mail:  Why the 70s were the best time to be a mom

Andrew Sullivan:  The mindset of Jeffry S. Wiesenfeld


5 comments:

Ultra Dave said...

You're an excellent writer. You're gonna be missed. Don't stay silent too long or too often, lest you forget how to speak. Hugs!!!

Anonymous said...

I wish I could talk you into writing perpetually. I will tell you how I feel about it. I am by all accounts much older than you and probably came into blogging reluctantly. I do think that because things are almost impossible to change that a blog, an opinion, a story well told does make a difference. No, you can't convince everyone nor will you have a tremendous impact but there is that little grain of sand...your contribution to leaving this world a much better place than you found it.
blog on, you do it so well!
saludos,
raulito

Russ Manley said...

Thanks guys, appreciate ya.

Frank said...

Russ, I can certainly relate to your feelings. Sometimes the events we hear about or witness personally or vicariously seem to cry out for a response. At times such responses seem futile and the warmth of a spring day and the peacefulness of a garden seem too precious to waste, especially as we age.

But the prophets, Socrates, Quentin Crisp, and many others were not at a loss for words in their old age. Perhaps the best we can do is try to keep it all in perspective and in balance.

There are times when even silence speaks louder than words or when silence is indeed the ethical response.

Blogging for me is a little compulsive, a little bit hobby, a little bit of extroversion for an INFP and has been a way to connect with total strangers who I see as, in some way, kindred spirits. And Russ, you are certainly in that category.

Russ Manley said...

Well I'll take that as a compliment Frank, and I feel the same in return. And I agree that balance is the key to a life well lived - them ol' Greek boys called it the Golden Mean, you know.

But even old prophets, they do get weary sometimes ya know . . . .

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