Web Presence: Living like you blog


thoughtful pose


I am not my name. I have met other Melissa’s.  Some smelled just as sweet.  You do not have to know my name to know me.  I look like a Melissa, but I am not my name.

I am not my face.  To attract more readers, to appeal to humanness, I should post a photo of me.  I took a lot of selfies, had my husband take a lot of wife-ies.  I’ll add my image to the posts of thoughts, but I am not my face.

I am not my thoughts.  I make thoughts. I am, therefore I think. Thoughts that I censor, reflect on, and type out.  Thoughts that I share. Just seconds ago, this was nothing.  I have made something from nothing.  My thoughts are in my image.  But I am not my thoughts.

I am not my blog.  I was feeling incomplete.  Like I was forgetting a part of myself by neglecting my writing, by waiting until I had all the just right things to say in just the right way.  Waiting until never. Finally, I have made a whole extension of myself here in the infinite abyss. I have made something in my likeness. But I am not my blog.

In a way, blogging is inherently mindful.  It asks you to be intentionally vulnerable, to be open.  To have a blog at all is to validate some part of you, on purpose.  It is saying yes, your thoughts matter.   

To have a successful blog, you must be continually present, with the goal of connecting. It is not enough just to make a blog.  Blogging is a practice.  An intentional practice in which you engage with your blog.  And your blog reaches others’, and gets mentioned in their blogs.  In this presence, you must value others.  You must have purpose. The web is timeless. There is no beginning, no end.  You must accept that what you type now may have an infinitely small or profound impact.   You must be willing to try new things, to be intentional about this extension of yourself.

We accept these realities about having a presence on the World Wide Web.  But we don’t accept the same complexities about living in the Whole Wide World.  Because we cannot turn it off, we cannot step outside it, we think we are not in control of our presence of the Whole Wide World.  

Just as we are not our blogs, we have to remind ourselves that we are not the labels and titles, the physical body, or the thinking styles that extend from us.  These things matter, we have some connection to them, but we forget that they are not us.  At our core, we are sensory beings.  Loving beings.  Creative beings.  Any other part of us, extends from one of these aspects of our core being.
I am not my name, face, thoughts, or blog.  But I do strive for a presence in which my being; my senses, love and creativity are the basis for each extension of me.

Like Nobody’s Watching

When I tend to get stuck on writing, I’m usually thinking about someone else reading it.  I think about what parts not to say, what to keep concealed for fear of being found out. Found out to be, whatever I am that is undesirable.  So I’ll tuck sentences away, and bolster other words instead until I’m muted completely. Stuck, thinking about the outcome.  I want to write words that resonate and mean something to someone.  When I’m off track, I’m stuck on justifying myself through my writing.  And then I get to the point of justifying my writing, in true Raison d’être fashion.  But this has never been my style. I don’t have an elaborate answer, or a why.  I write because of what the words mean to me and what they mean about me. I just write.  Magical things happen when I write, but they are not why I write.

Every time we remember something, we don’t remember the actual event, we remember the last time we remembered that event. When I write, I re-remember something about me.  Some lost part of me, some idea, notion or dream that I tucked away in my day-to-day life for fear of judgment, or perhaps because I’m judging myself. Writing helps me to be intentional about accepting all parts of myself.  The next time I remember this feeling, it will have new meaning, meaning that I wrote.  Each word a gentle letting go of the past, each letter one less slipped second into the future. It keeps me present.  When I write it creates space between me and my experiences, thoughts, worries and desires.

It can be easy for me to forget that I am separate from the aforementioned mental constructs.  I think too much and writing keeps me mindful.  Reciprocally, incorporating mindfulness [non-judgment, present-moment awareness, intention] into my writing has made me a better writer.  Better writing has made me a better communicator which improves all aspects of my life. As a therapist, I encourage my clients to exercise their basic personal rights; one being the right not to justify yourself to others.  Magic can happen when we stop justifications, when we accept that whatever is has a right to be.  When I write just to write, I write like nobody is reading.  I do it to be fully myself, without justification.  In these honest expressions, I get the opportunity to reflect, to observe myself through the looking glass of a cheap laptop screen.

Because I’m too self-conscious and have little rhythm on my feet, I let my words dance for me. I write because I do. And when I do, my words dance like nobody’s watching.

Raison D’être