Sitting on the Moon

Success is not final, failure is not fatal; it is the courage to continue that counts. ~Winston Churchill

Scream by Munch

Arrggghhhhhh!!! There is a breach in the continuum, a gap in the stream that cannot be filled, a hole in time that, sans time travel, I can never stitch together, a void that will forever stand reminding me of negligence, stand accusing me of failure.

My stated goal, a goal recorded in my written word, carved into the permanency of bits and bytes for all the world to see, the current populace and future generations to stumble upon as they browse the web, was to write a blog a day for 365 days. I put this in writing because a dream articulated becomes a vision, a vision shared becomes a goal, a goal shared carries the weight of accountability. I thrive when I have a measure of anxiety, do my best creation under pressure, craft my best work when I put myself on the line and state a lofty goal for all to see.

I thought I had posted a blog that day, thought I had written of my heart's musings and scheduled it for posting. But I didn't. I brain farted and posted it to tomorrow when it should have been available today. I could post two blogs one day to make up for my oversight which would give me 365 blogs in a year but that would be cheating. I could post five blogs a day between now and the year mark but, still, the gap pointing the finger of failure in my direction would still stand as my accuser. Or is it really a failure?

My dream was to start a blog, to have a place where I could record my thoughts, could put to paper those rants, raves ramblings routinely rolling 'round in my conscious and subconscious ruminations. I needed a measurement, a measureable goal that would challenge me because I do not get excited by easy accomplishments, so I decided my success would be a blog a day for an entire year.

The blog a day for a year was for me a lofty goal that would require a complete reorganization of my life's priorities. I was becoming too comfortable, too complacent, too blind to the glory of the created world, too myopic to see the fascinating in what had become mundane, mundane solely because I was looking without seeing, I fell into a mode where I was taking the miraculous for granted.

Since I have been blogging, I look at the world differently. Glances at my surroundings are much less frequent having been replaced by lingering studies of my environment, of an environment that is at once real and imaginary. An old couple walking along the lakefront of the Zugersee is no longer just two people passing by out of mind as soon as they are out of sight. I give them a story as I create scenarios in my mind that gives context to their lives, to the lives I like to imagine they may have lived, are living, will live, see the backdrop of the Zugersee with its waves as a metaphor for a life that is rich with challenges.

Sitting on the Moon

I hear more when listening to ethnic music trying to imagine how the world of the artist influences the choice of images in the lyrics, I read books with a more critical eye as I explore the voice of the author in the words and try to understand why particular words are chosen, drink wine wondering how the taste can be captured in prose, in word images, which helps me ferret out the subtleties of the flavors dancing on my tongue.

I have not failed. I would consider the forgotten blog as failure if I had let the missing entry derail me from my quest, a quest dwarfed by a tiny blip in the continuum. The missing entry was a bump along my journey, one of those deviations that keeps the journey from becoming mundane. My goal of a blog a day for 365 days was a shot at the stars. I missed the stars but still have a great view of life while sitting on the moon.