the presence of absence

What is the sound made by a blogger not blogging?  Is a blogger no longer a blogger if the blogging is not blogged about?  These are questions to be considered, maybe not as seated in zazen, but merely in standing thought.  Life, after all, happens.

I’m no stranger to radio silence.  Or some brief and unexpected bouts of post-less-ness, although nowhere near as thunderous as the closing down of a blog.  No, nothing as dramatic, but all in the same, there are reasons, events, people, and things, which may steal your favorite writers away.  The pages become static, the RSS falls silent, and comments go unanswered.  It happens.

My name is not “six.”  Really – ask me for my ID, you’ll see my picture (and a pretty goofy one at that) but no, that name is not “six” at all.  And it’s not wrong to pursue a bit of privacy and anonymity, but it does make for an interesting clash when life happens, and the superhero costume of our sex-blogger selves must hang on a wire hanger in the closet, pushed back perhaps with those jeans that may not fit so right anymore, or that shirt which has curiously gone out of fashion after one or two washes.

Having, then, pressed the pause and play button on the playback of posts to my own blog, I can say only this: please be patient.  Please visit.  Please come back.  The writer misses writing as much as the reader misses the reading.  I know that I wouldn’t be writing if not to be read.  And while it may feel like an eternity of stale pages and silent posts, hang in there.  Send an email, and say hello.  You might get something back – even a few precious small words.  Writers, keep thinking, writing internally.  The words will find the page when the time is (to) write.

Wait it out, and maybe, just maybe – like the exhale after a held breath has stopped the act of breathing – a new post will greet you like the happening delicious first sip of fresh air.