When I set out to start blogging again, I might have set my sights a bit high with "30 blogs in 30 days." I've done that challenge before, but I think I underestimated the obstacles involved in carving out quiet time for myself, reflecting on things and then actually putting together some words that act as a sort of translator for my heart.
But when I realized I was averaging a blog every couple days, I decided to go with it and not get caught up with the idea that I wasn't doing specifically what I set out to do. My goal was to simply start writing again, regularly, and to enjoy it. To connect with that part of myself that goes dormant when I don't allow myself to truly feel the experiences of my days and take in all the little bits of wonder we so often miss.
So even though I was straying from what I had set out to do, I knew I was accomplishing my goal, one blog at a time, even if it was happening on a different time schedule than I had anticipated.
I began seeing words spilling out of clouds and street signs, little details following me home after coffee with friends or an afternoon running errands. When I began connecting with words again, paying attention to the details of my daily life, suddenly I was feeling inspired again.
More than anything, I'm realizing we have to follow our joy, our passion, the rope that hangs down when we are stuck in a hole, looking for a way out. Sometimes we feel lost and looking up into the bright sun seems brutal and pointless. But if we can change our perspective, move until we can finally see what's in front of us, it's then that we'll see the rope, hanging down from the edge, the thing that's always been there, waiting for us to grip it with both hands and pull ourselves up.