I was pleased with the post I wrote yesterday. In “Flying to You”, I talked about my two trips to Alberta this June, first to see my nephew Jaxon’s high school graduation and the second two weeks later to visit my friend Sharyn, and later Jaxon and his family. The highlights of the intervening time back home will be a Grade 6 grad and a Grade 8 one. I’m happy about being with the people I love.
This afternoon I couldn’t resist – I had to find out how many folks had viewed my words. “Wow! That’s quite a lot.” So much for not needing people’s feedback. Maybe tomorrow I’ll be empty of ego.
One of the WordPress pages gives me the stats. Another one simply lists my recent posts, with the first sentence or so shown. I looked back on my week. There were “Daddy!”, “Fresh” and “Skaters”. Above was “Flying to You” but something looked different. Hmm. Then it hit me – no first sentence. I clicked on the title …
No words. All gone. Bye bye.
My heart leapt up. My muscles collapsed into my bones. My mouth gaped. Bottom line: this was a disaster. Four hundred words that I was proud of were no more. I thought of the damage to me, and I also thought of the loss to folks who enjoy reading what I have to say.
I felt violated. There was a huge gap ripping through me, plus a compulsion to recall the words of twelve hours past and put them into a new post – “Flying to You 2.0”. I was leaning towards the laptop keys, shaking below the surface. Isn’t there an “Undo” button here somewhere?
And then … I sunk back into the couch. I loosened, all over. I smiled. My heart rate fell back to 60 or 70 beats a minute. I was at ease.
So what happened? How is it that I let go of thoughts that were “mine”? That it didn’t matter if anyone will ever read them in the future. That I have peace.
Are the possessing parts of me starting to break up, being shuffed off like dead skin? Is there a new, far broader identity emerging, one that stretches far out into the world? Or is it that I just don’t give a poop anymore?
Whatever’s happening, I sense it’s good. The unravelling is something I can trust.
And how about these sentences that lie before me right now? Just for laughs, should I press “Delete” instead of “Publish”? Naw. A guy can only have so much fun.