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Months and two posts ago I indicated that I was rethinking my online presence.

And then my fall got all kinds of interesting.  A little bit was normal fall interesting of long hours and busy schedule; some was some unique job stuff I’m not talking about here (don’t worry, everything is good and I’m talking to people and being healthy and sane); and some of it was health stuff I choose not to talk about here for a lot of reasons (short version: while interfering with my life it was ultimately easy enough to deal with).

I never stopped thinking, I just also never had the creative energy to make a decision or do anything.

But somewhere in between everything else I made a decision.  This blog isn’t the best space for a lot of the writing I want to do, feel compelled to be doing.  If you know me in other parts of the internet, you may have already seen and read some of that other writing.  If you haven’t, more will be coming and more attention will be paid drawn to it.  If you don’t know me in other areas of my life and want to follow me, email me.

I’m leaving this blog up.  I will be changing some of the information.  I’m not even ruling out coming back and writing more here.  I just am not making any commitment to how often that will be.

Until next time

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I know I’ve gotten quiet here again. I’m busy, but I’m always busy.
It’s more that I’m thinking seriously about how I want to continue writing. Once upon a time, this existed on a different site and was all poetry. Then more prose crept in and I switched to wordpress. And now things are changing again. I’m still writing, but I’m writing differently and I’m thinking.
I’m not going anywhere. Or at least, I’m not going away. Just give me a little more time to figure out what is coming now.

Technically, no.  I have plenty of creative juice.  It goes into my sermons; it goes into the classes I teach; it goes into the plans I have for my parishes.

But then I come home and I realize that I haven’t written much else–much that wasn’t work related in a really long time.  And that I have been taken pictures.  And that I haven’t been sewing.  Or engaging in my other creative pursuits.  (Although, really, those are the big ones, the ones I’d like to continue.)

But creativity takes time.  And energy.  Not just “sure I can get up and feed myself” energy, that special kind of energy that let’s my brain make those connections.  Those connections that make a sermon spark with the congregation and help a class connect ideas and begin to make conclusions and that give the parish plans hope.

And still, I miss the other things I did.  That I will do again.  Every now and then I miss them more deeply and have to remind myself that this is only a season of my life.  That it is right and good in its own way.  And that it too will pass.

Watch this. Listen to this.
I still envy poets who can do this. Of course, given how much poetry I’ve actually written lately, I’m just sort of generically jealous of poets.
It’s all for (mostly) good reasons. Life has been busy (and those who know me will tell you that my life is rarely otherwise). I’m have things to say about what I’m doing and what I’m experiencing, I just want to take the time to write them well. So, slowly those words will come.

In the meantime, listen to Joshua. His words are beautiful and sad and wonderful.

I used to write here a lot.  Once upon a time it was mostly poetry.

Then a few weeks ago, I had a post up and when I wrote it there were, well words and they expressed thoughts and ideas.  Only when I looked at it, there were no words.  Problem.

It was a good post.  It was relevant and there were other things that I had to say in follow up.  It will be a good post again.  And there will still be things to say after I re-write that post.

But right now.  Right now life is crazy.  I have put in hours that I won’t confess to because, well, I don’t need more voices telling me this pace is unsustainable.  I know this.  But right now, this is what I need to do.  And I like my job.  Even when it’s a little bit crazy.

So, hang in there.  I’ll try to get things up.  But it could be a few more weeks before anything of substance appears, or reappears.

Today is World Suicide Day.

Most people don’t know those of us who have tried or thought about trying suicide.  Most people know about the people who have successfully committed suicided.

I’ve been suicidal.  Most recently, after my second surgery.  I think I’ve mentioned before that that surgery was the toughest one to survive.   And I almost didn’t.  I can still remember sitting in my dorm room looking at the phone and my yellow ribbon card.  I sat there for what would have been minutes but seemed like forever working up the courage, the strength, to reach out.  To fulfill the promise I’d made after the last time I’d been suicidal.  That if this ever happened again I would get help.

Eventually I made the phone call to the campus psych services.  They got me into an appointment, they told me that I was depressed, they put me on my first round of anti-depressants.  They saved my life.

I am once again, and probably for the rest of my life, taking anti-depressants.  (Search this blog for pills.  The anti-depressants are the red pills.)  By now I think I have been through enough trauma that I will be taking anti-depressants for the rest of my life.  Which makes me glad that I live in a country with healthcare, that I have a job with benefits, that I have a background that tells me it’s okay to ask for this kind of help.  It was worth it.  It was harder than anyone who has never been suicidal can understand.

My suicide stories are longer.  But I don’t, this week, have the energy to tell all of them.  So let me say this in closing.

I am glad to be alive.  Making that phone call, living up to the promise I had made to myself, was one of the hardest things I have ever done.

Camp has been….

Kids learning to speak one at a time (or us trying to get them to learn this); Ospreys trying to kill me (I swear); paperwork (which I will never escape from, this I have accepted); not having enough time to enjoy these delightful little people; getting to witness kids really engage, at least occasionally; watching kids being kids; and occasionally teaching them a little latin or obscure Church.

And somewhere in there, in all of that crazy, busy, multi-headache, no spare time, week, I started feeling calmer.  Maybe part of it is knowing that I’m going back to my own life where there is a whole other crazy, busy, often headache inducing, with little to no spare time type of life waiting for me.  But I’m also going back to my own bed, my own cooking (though the food has been wonderful), my parishioners, and my own schedule.

And I’ll be back here.  Starting next week.  Maybe I’ll tell you a few Camp stories…..

I’m gone for last week and this week.   I’m taking my turning helping out at our Church camp, so posting will continue to be light to the point of not existing.  I am writing some and I will return.

This sort of thing has only happened to me once or twice.

I stood outside the two doors and heard
The wind in the tarnished bronze, dead leaves
That had failed in their final duty last fall
Suddenly I could feel a chair that does not exist
Beneath me and hear the same wind at a different time
Rustling different leaves, these new and green
And almost taste the dinner I had just made
Along with the drink in my hand, crisp and cool
The space mine in a way I could not understand
In a way few other places have been mine

written 3-23-2010

I will move in to this space in a few weeks. Between now and then I will be traveling and then moving. If I say that posting will be light, suddenly ten posts will be fighting for priority in my head, so instead let me ask for your patience with me in the next month.

I was pretty young when I first encountered this notion of personal boundaries.  I was reading some article about Jackie O (I think.  And it was so long ago, that there is almost no chance the article exists online.)  The article, as I recall, spoke of Jackie going through her personal papers to determine what would survive and possibly fall into public hands.  I remember being slightly shocked at the need for that and at what she would personally destroy to maintain her privacy.

And then as I grew up and began to increasingly work in and around the Church, I began to spend more and more aware of both how public life, any life, is and how much any person needs to choose to maintain a private life.  There are ethical issues and safety/security issues and privacy issues and reality issues.  And none of it is ever easy.

I also know that by writing this blog I’ve moved parts of my life into a more public sphere.  It was a choice I made, mostly.  It was a call I followed.  Regardless, it is my choice to continue.  Not my family’s, my friends’, or my churches’ choice.

So I will continue to write: poetry, about my health and lack thereof, about the books I’m reading, and about other things as they come up.  Sometimes my churches will come up in the periphery of all of that.  Just as my family or friends also come up in the periphery.

Aside from privacy and consent issues, I created this space for my writing, my voice.  And I find I am reluctant to give up that luxury.

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