The dog at my blog post…

I know that more than one or two English teachers read this blog from time to time, and so today’s blog is basically my excuse for not having much of a post… but still in the service of all our collective children.

Sometimes friends express that they are amazed at my consistent posting, and while I’m so glad that all of you read, sometimes I fear that I’m setting the wrong example.  I want to encourage us all to do less, to calm down, to be present, to trust that we are enough.  So maybe my bloggoreah is some sort of symptom—probably of both my wish to be loved (how human is that?) and my continuing attempt to reconcile the spirit of my depths with the spirit of the time.  I must admit that I’m good down in my depths, rambling around with all my angels and demons, wandering through a world that feels to me alive with mystery and always has—it’s just that I’ve had so few people to talk with who see it like me and Alice in her wonderland.  So maybe I also blog in the search for my tribe of not-quite-rational beings, of forgiving English teachers and indulgent coaches who don’t really mind if you drop the ball… a lot.

When I decided to commit to a year of blogging mindfully, I really didn’t give all that much thought to what that might mean.  I guess in my mind I thought it would be more like Twitter:  “Ordered the salmon.  Yum!”  “I love those kids, aren’t they great?”  “It’s hard, but don’t give up…”  And how long would that take, really?

But because I’m a little bit obsessive, despite my conscious intention to make posts shorter (which I do recognize would be easier to read and probably, ultimately, more useful to more people), I have thus far failed to consistently keep it brief.  Still, in my heart and soul I am writing toward the end of words, and I am fully aware that death will eventually stop me if I cannot stop myself.  And so, I strive to dedicate my own meandering way to both the soul and the collective.  Yet as Jung makes clear about not following his way, I echo in saying not to follow my way either—I’m here to encourage you to follow your way (and still coax forward a heightened consciousness that we all struggle, strive and love side-by-side).

And so it was that, due to a full client schedule, school advisory conferences for both boys, picking up dinner for the boys, going to a talk at the Hammer Museum about Jung’s Red Book (more than a little more on that to follow) and then opting to watch a Lakers’ game with my son rather than blog (a healthy choice, right? And it was a playoff game, and we did win {we, being the Lakers of course—I realize that some readers might have been for Oklahoma City})… and so I’ve come up on empty as the clock ran down, the internet is out at my office, clients are waiting and I have a dinner with my fellow LA Parenting Specialists (more on them also to follow, particularly on breaking news about feeding babies and the relationship to allergies) tonight.  Alas, this explanation is my dispatch from the middle of life.

I intuit and suspect that my failure to come up with something pithy or profound today will warm your heart more than yet another think-piece on the cosmos (which I cannot promise will not still be forthcoming), and that my human limitation probably links us more solidly than our mutual attempts to be in any way sparkly and fabulous.

And there we have it.

Namaste, Bruce

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18 Responses to “The dog at my blog post…”

  1. Justine Says:

    To your last paragraph – I wouldn’t say “more than” but rather, “just as much as”.

    I know what you mean about trying to be brief. I often try and fail, and I’m still struggling to find the right voice for my blog, torn between what comes naturally and what challenges me – both with its own merits – because having discovered so many brilliant bloggers, it is hard not to have a complex!

    But in the end, you are right: “I’m here to encourage you to follow your way (and still coax forward a heightened consciousness that we all struggle, strive and love side-by-side).”

    I will find my way, and I will someday be comfortable in my own virtual skin. One toddler step alongside me at a time.

    • privilegeofparenting Says:

      Thank you so much for the mutual and authentic cross-encouragement to both find our voices and at the same time find our interconnectedness.

      I do believe that our true brilliance is the mysterious spirit that pulses within, and animates, that which transcends the ego, that which we strive to place our ego-selves in the service of—that which has no true name, but which I choose to call “all our collective children.”

  2. Lindsey M Nelson Says:

    I love this. It is always nice to hear people, especially people who are so capable of expressing the wise and profound parts of themselves, expose their humanity 🙂 I also love and think that it is very fitting that this post comes complete with a typographical error in the title 🙂 It is perfect.

    • privilegeofparenting Says:

      You know I was so harried that I missed that typo, then I was embarrassed to notice it this evening… and so I “fixed” it, but in reading your life-affirming comment (and trickster affirming as well), I’m going to un-fix it.

      Thanks for kind words, and for re-connecting me to my better-Self, the Duchamp spirit who knows that the flawed is practically perfect.

      Namaste

  3. BigLittleWolf Says:

    This is lovely, and reason enough for some of us: maybe I also blog in the search for my tribe of not-quite-rational beings.

  4. Stephanie Says:

    I love it – seven paragraphs on how you didn’t have time to write anything… Now THAT’S Improv! Steph.

  5. Beth K Says:

    Bruce,
    I applaud you for watching the Lakers game with your son with the post still unwritten.
    The line, “I am fully aware that death will eventually stop me if I cannot stop myself” spoke to me.
    Hugs,
    Beth

  6. Sue Says:

    “…despite my conscious intention to make posts shorter (which I do recognize would be easier to read and probably, ultimately, more useful to more people)…”
    Bruce, don’t sell yourself short. Your posts are wonderful and useful the way they are! Their length makes us stop and think long enough to actually do some pondering. Shorter posts would be not nearly as profound, deep, and thought-provoking. You are being your unique self, which is a very important contribution. Don’t worry about being like “everyone else”!
    I also struggle with wordiness sometimes, or rather, wanting to fully express the complexity of my thoughts sometimes beyond the need of my readers or listeners. So I am familiar with the urge to try to be more brief – but in this case, the beauty of your blog is in the completeness of your thoughts, and the detail in them.
    Keep up the good work!

  7. krk Says:

    You may think you are not offering much, but that is not so. Your thoughts
    are always appreciated by me.
    Happy to be a part of the tribe.
    krk

  8. Jen Says:

    I am with Sue, don’t attempt to shorten your words/thoughts! I am already quaking with possible withdrawls–what happens when the year is up?!

    • privilegeofparenting Says:

      Thanks Jen—all these comments are so sweet, I’m feeling guilty, as if I somehow pulled for them.

      Wherever things go in the future, I must say that I really enjoy doing this blog, and that the doing, rather than any sense of where it’s going seems to make it come alive for me. I feel like there is some sort of spirit of authentic interest that we co-create, not just here, but across the blogosphere and out into certain edges of “reality” that animates our mutual writing precisely because we feel that we are talking WITH each other.

      Namaste to all who happen across these words.

  9. Kristen @ Motherese Says:

    Oh, how I appreciate this uniquely and universally human post. I relate deeply to the search for like-minded “not-quite-rational” beings and am grateful to have found one in you. I also relate to the strong desire some nights to snuggle with a son or a partner on the couch while watching sports (and maybe even eating junk food). How vital it is to choose to be present and mindful in a simple moment – after all, what else would we blog about the next day? 🙂

    • privilegeofparenting Says:

      I hear your words so loudly and clearly… and I so welcome your presence, whether we’re chatting here or over at Motherese.

      I suppose we can be present to our moments of blogging just as we can be present to all the others—hopefully, as you suggest, they give us something to blog about—but maybe our blogging also helps keep us on track to treasure our lives and live them more richly and more fully, serving each other via kindred encouragement in a world sometimes more than challenging, a world that sometimes makes us want to run the other way rather than be present.

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