The Screen Will Have to Do
I’m in a strange place with this blog, and all the other forums where talking is required.
Everyday I stare at this blog banner and think to myself, “Something healing this way came.” Whatever I started here feels finished to me, so I wonder what to write, what more can possibly be said.
I’ve had this situation with a blog before. Some of you remember way back in 2003-2005 when I had a totally different blog, when I wrote about my kids and faith and spirituality and even (gasp!) church. I wrote that blog until all those topics started to make me slightly crazy, so I quit and not only stopped blogging but also took all my archives down. It was Google suicide, but I didn’t care. I knew I wanted to be a part of a very different conversation and it felt good to make a clean break.
I spent the next year being a housewife, trying for the tenth time to save my marriage, trying to be domestic, trying to do ordinary things. I have to say all of those things made me very happy even though I was hardly successful at any of them. I spent that year with a little spiral notebook and a box of watercolor paints and I painted and painted until my soul started to heal a little, even if everything else was mostly the same.
At the end of the year, I went to Blogher, thanks to my sister, who was launching a business and thought it would do both of us some good to be there. I spent the entire time chatting with people who I did not know would eventually become soulsisters and dear friends. I had no idea at the time how those friendships would shape and change my life.
By fall, with my family settled in a new place and my little urban family well on its way, I decided I was ready to be a part of a new conversation–about art and creativity–and this blog was born. This blog carried me through all kinds of twists and turns. I learned how to take risks. I faced rejection. I asked for help. I found a new way to be a part of a community. I got my heart cracked open in a really serious way and had more than one major dream come true.
Now, one year later after being in Rwanda, I’m aware that my whole life is very different than when I first started. My relationships have totally shifted and changed. My focus has moved from art to activism. My desire is to be quiet and have things unfold more than shake and move to make things happen. I’m much more serious now about what’s important to me, and I’m more focused on using my energy to see real world changes unfold on a global scale. I’m not as uptight or as easygoing as I used to be and in many other ways I am much more tender and tough.
All this puts this blog in a strange place. How do you blog when you mostly want to be quiet? What do you say when you mostly want to listen? How do you share when your stories get stranger and stranger by the second? How do you explain how thankful you are that this blog and this community brought you to this spot in the first place? How do you say how much you wish you could keep giving because you’ve been given so much?
I don’t have the answers to any of that, and I’m not about to take all my archives down and disappear again, but I am aware that a change is coming. I wish I knew how to thank you for being in this with me for so long. I wish it were the kind of change that could be negotiated in person, but that’s the problem with blogs. The screen will have to do.
May 6th, 2009 at 10:16 am
Thank you for this story and your latest “update.” You have such a gift for words and putting them together in a way that explains things so beautifully.
I don’t have any answers to your questions either but I support you in whatever you do and in wherever the journey takes you, girlfriend!
Peace be with you!
May 6th, 2009 at 10:56 am
I’m in a very similiar space right now and I love how honest you are about it. It’s hard to make a blog fit the ebbs and flows of life, especially when writing is so important to us. Whatever you do, where ever you go, we’re cheering for you!
May 6th, 2009 at 11:04 am
I met you in Chicago two years at Blogher, you gave a talk about staying small.
For the past two years you have inspired me, pushing me to be better, kinder, more giving and braver. Thank you for that.
May 6th, 2009 at 11:29 am
You DO have the answers. You are living the answers. And always, new questions. I so appreciate your clarity, tender and tough and true.
May 6th, 2009 at 11:41 am
whatever may happen, if you need to hear this: you have permission to move on from this place. take flight, dear jen. nothing would bring us more joy.
you’ve planted seeds of inspiration in so many on this path. you’ve welcomed all and shared your stories. we’ve all grown through them. that dream is calling you — we all hear it.
run to it, jen.
May 6th, 2009 at 12:12 pm
I don’t often get teary-eyed when reading blogs, but I did, just a bit, as I read this. Because it is really about what we are doing and feeling in our “real” everyday lives, isn’t it? And that morphs and changes over time, sometimes quite dramatically, as you have experienced and share here. And the quiet spaces that can come from that…that absolute need to be quiet and look around and listen can become a very strong force. While my life has not undergone the kind of monumental and truly life-changing path that yours has gone, I still complete relate to this need to shift gears and just be. It’s something that I have employed for the last several months, only occassionally dropping in to either write or read. It has given me some distance and very important perspective.
I am rambling, but I guess the bottom line is that at the end of the day, the very best course of action is to do what feels right, even if that is on a day to day basis. The rest will take care of itself and we will be personally better for it. Mentally, emotionally, spiritually…and everything in between. Thank you for always sharing so truthfully. You are a force…a beautiful force. xo
May 6th, 2009 at 1:25 pm
Don’t worry. Let your future come to you. Nothing is ever lost.
May 6th, 2009 at 2:00 pm
Thank you for sharing all of this. I am always inspired by what you write. As a newcomer (one year) to blogging, you explained very well the feeling I get at times of just wanting to be quiet, knowing that change is coming, and questioning how to do this while still maintaining a connecton with those who love you for being where you’ve been…and will love you where you’re going next.
May 6th, 2009 at 2:53 pm
I have read your words and I send you a loving squeeze across cyberspace ~ did you feel it?
It seems like I have found your blog, which seems amazing from what I’ve seen, right at the point where you are taking a bow and the curtain is closing.
If there is an encore, I’ll peek back ~
A thousand four leaf clovers along your journey path,
Bella
May 6th, 2009 at 3:17 pm
Wise words I’ve heard: “everything changes, everything ends.” So much of life is about how we live with that truth. Thank you for your gratitude. We are grateful to you, Jen, for being brave enough to live out loud.
May 6th, 2009 at 3:25 pm
Any angle of you opens eyes and hearts. You’re not obligated to anything except your fulfillment and your happiness, and that of the people you love.
xo
May 6th, 2009 at 3:51 pm
Baby. Welcome to the other side. Thanks for all you have done. Always remember you are always free.
X
Supa
May 6th, 2009 at 4:13 pm
it’s so wild– you have just articluated something that resonates deeply with me. I just closed the blog I had for 5 years, a blog that propelled my life through extraordinary transformation. it was a bittersweet ending as I loved all that was, but had to create new space to embrace the next adventure and you just captured all of that joy and chagrin here– may your tough and tender spirit prevail with great happiness all around!
May 6th, 2009 at 4:38 pm
In (grateful) silence,
Chana
May 6th, 2009 at 5:35 pm
Yes, Jen, live free. Take flight if you need to. In fact, you are preparing to do just that. To take flight and see the world with Stephanie. To take flight with your heart, your soul, your art, your camera. And someday with your children as well. Know that you will always be loved and thought of and prayed for. And know that you will also be missed, so very much.
On a more personal note, I sooooo wish I could extend that conversation we began at Glide last summer. The one about church and how and why you left it… I sooooo need to hear and/or read that story right about now.
May 7th, 2009 at 2:17 am
Thank you for sharing yourself. The happy moments, the aggonizing moments and deep soul searching moments. They have all been beautiful. You’ve spoken to my soul in a way that shakes thinks up inside.In your writing about your journey of enlightenment helps others to see it in themselves. Thank you, thank you, thank you. I did not know how much I needed to hear these thoughts until I read them… they are changing my life.
I Promise.
I will be brave because that is what is needed.
I will see the beauty and peacefullness around me as well as within me.
I will listen and let other souls be heard.
And I will say yes to the gifts set before me.
I was ment to find you here, I was ment to read your words and I was ment to take them into my heart like a little seed. I will nuture it and watch it grow and let it be what it was ment to be.
Bless you in this journey where ever it may take you. And I will never forget the woman who’s words resonated within me so loudly that it gives me goose bumps.
Blessing,
chel
May 7th, 2009 at 6:14 am
Dear Jen;
I’ve been away and when I checked your blog this morning. I felt a little sad. I’m not always good with change , but I do know that change is necessary. Life is motion. Everything is in motion. Even this seemingly hard old earth is fluid. Good luck .
marilee
May 7th, 2009 at 10:04 am
i love you jen .
straight up.
May 7th, 2009 at 11:54 am
hey there.
everything’s bound to work out in the end
May 7th, 2009 at 12:12 pm
Is there something in the stars about transition? Is it the new millenium? The results of 9/11? Is numerology or is it just life?
I see so many people in transition right now. Some at the beginning of changes. Some in the middle. Some settling into a new place.
I don’t know what it’s about.
I guess I’ll just keep going and find out where these transitions lead.
May 7th, 2009 at 2:12 pm
And we, your dear readers, friends, cohorts, fellow travelers ~ are here to hold the space for you ~ while you continue to pose such profound questions and realize such amazing truths.
Thank you for this post ~ and for voicing what perhaps so many of us feel but are afraid to acknowledge and articulate.
May 7th, 2009 at 5:07 pm
“How do you blog when you mostly want to stay quiet.”
You put up a photo (when your soul feels like doing so). And maybe a quote. And you don’t even have to explain a thing.
We love you Jen.
May 8th, 2009 at 2:48 am
Colors. Touching. Fibers. Tickling. Stroking. Examine each piece of your soul furniture and have a garage sale with the pieces that you don’t need, then you’ll have less to bump into. Jump into a well of music and drown in sound. Learn how to gurgle, mumble, chuckle, coo, roar, whisper. Quit blogging? Sappho said, “Life is short and very fragile; do that which makes you happy.”
May 10th, 2009 at 12:51 am
I’m excited about this paragraph:
“My focus has moved from art to activism. My desire is to be quiet and have things unfold more than shake and move to make things happen. I’m much more serious now about what’s important to me, and I’m more focused on using my energy to see real world changes unfold on a global scale.”
And I honour the desire to be quiet - although I continue to walk with you in spirit. On my own path, just over here. xx
May 10th, 2009 at 8:32 am
amen is all I can say. you’re never alone on the path and I’m thrilled to have had our lives touch the way they did at MM. peace be with you and yours.
May 10th, 2009 at 2:43 pm
Others have pretty much said it all. Above everything, you must honour what is right for you, that’s what you’ve been teaching us all to do.
May 11th, 2009 at 4:54 pm
look at all this love. soak it up jen. it’s such good stuff. and like Karen said, “that dream is calling you. we all hear it. run to it Jen.” perfectly said! xo
May 13th, 2009 at 8:25 am
You have asked amazing questions and now you’re living into the answers. In the meantime, you are held in the love and prayers and hope of so many people whose lives you have touched in rich and wonderful ways. Your stories, your risks, your dreams, your hopes have inspired many ~ as already stated, we are grateful. May blessings abide you and surprise you in the coming weeks!
May 14th, 2009 at 1:06 pm
I came here to say how much I loved your artwork, which was featured in Memory Makers Magazine. After reading this blog entry I also want to thank you for your honesty. In my daily life, I rarely meet people that think as deeply as I do and judging from your words, you do. I don’t know if this helps or not but I find the older I get the more it’s about just asking the questions regardless of whether you ever find the answers or not. Best of luck to you on your journey.
May 16th, 2009 at 9:18 am
Hello, You are a dear friend of Myriam’s and I’ve been very quietly following her writing and yours here on this blog for a couple of months. She’s told me so many delicious stories of you and though I’ve never reached out to you in words - as I am too, in a quiet attention filled landscape these days - I like you very much.
I like the words that follow by Rilke, reminding us to live inside the questions and uncertainty of our stories and lives. It’s good what you do. I hope to meet your face some day.
Warm warm regards,
Ruth O’Donnell
“Be patient toward everything that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves like locked rooms and like books that are written in a very foreign tongue.
Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them.
And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps you will find them gradually, without noticing it, and live along some distant day into the answer.
–Rainer Maria Rilke
May 17th, 2009 at 2:10 am
Hey Jen,
Glad to see at least one other guy commented, assuming Max is a guy- so if I’m breaking some unwritten rule I’m not alone
You may remember me from the plane to/from Rwanda…your blog is on my favorites list and I used to check in frequently. I have to admit that it all started sounding the same (I’m such a guy sometimes…) so I haven’t checked in for awhile.
Then today I’m catching up (whatever that really means anymore)and expected to see more of the same. I don’t have your gift of writing and so i sense that I’ve made it sound more negative that i intended so…I really like that you just broke it out and said what you said as only you could say it. And it was good for me because one of my flaws is to pigeon-hole people and I had slowly cemented you in a box I had constructed for you. It is amazing that the words we say and write have some kind of inertia that keeps us moving down their path and creates our future, in a sense. Silence is amazing…so i’ll stop there. Thanks! J
May 17th, 2009 at 11:04 pm
ever evolving and changing. peace to you. you are an inspiration to us all.
May 23rd, 2009 at 5:52 pm
just wanted to say thankyou for letting us be a part of your amazing journey-it has been an honor to be invited to do so though your words.All the love and joy wherever the journey now leads you.
July 13th, 2009 at 2:14 am
Jen, we are in a very similar place. You are on a stellar path and I’m just so freaking proud to know you. I’ll follow you wherever you go…