So that’s that. Thirty posts on Religion, church, discernment, and the occasional something else. One for every day in November.
That was fun and infuriating. Some of the time, as I’m sure you could tell, I couldn’t come up with a effing thing to say.
I don’t have internet at my house right now. I mean, sure, if I sit in the corner of my room and don’t move my computer I can steal internet from the house across the street (dude, “password1234” is not an original password) but it’s a weak signal and really only useful for checking my email and even that is really slow. So for any practical purpose I don’t have internet at home.
So my normal procrastination technique was shot: I couldn’t just google or poke around online until I came up with something. If I wanted or needed to read something beforehand I had to do it while I was at the library or the democratic offices. I had to plan ahead.
It was a great exercise. In one post I talked about how I was having trouble talking to people about my discernment process. Logical-me wanted to, basically, shut down and not talk about it anywhere. By giving myself this rule, this goal, I forced myself to think through a lot of what I was feeling. That was so fantastic and necessary.
It also helped me put out of a lot of feelings I was having toward churches around here that were upsetting me or making worship hard.
And a lot of things came to me during conversations with friends about my blog. People who read what I had to say and said “I think it would be interesting if you wrote about this!” Or conversations with friends would drag something out of me that had been nagging for awhile:
And I somehow got noticed by the UU website “Interdependent web” which forced me to notice them. What a great resource!
Lastly this let me learn. “I think that this is a great idea!” would lead to comments that let me know I was not the only person who thought that. It made me learn to pick my words more carefully. To choose not to say something when I really wanted to. To phrase things a little more delicately. To not respond at all, at times.
It taught me that I sometimes just have to shut the hell up.
But also that I should usually say what I want to.
And it taught me that I’m maybe not quite as bad at writing as I thought I was.