I don’t have a ‘successful’ blog. In fact, I am lucky to get two or three views on a post, let alone likes. For a long time, this caused me a lot of discouragement and stress.
How am I to reach people if they are just not interested? Do people just not like poetry? Are my words too short/ too long? Am I posting at the wrong time? Am I not online enough? Am I using the wrong social platform? Am I just not a good writer? …
This is not a woe-is-me post. Ironically, I’d love a ton of people to read it but after 10 years of blogging, with little to show for it, I have learned something I believe worth sharing.
We live in a society that swells with saccharine, predictable, cookie-cutter creativity and shun (or at the very least, tolerate) that which causes the breath to trip, the mind to lurch, and the heart to stop with its brazen approach to arrest us and force us to think beyond our initial offense, or sense of disgust or outrage and ponder what that reaction means in and for us.
Often this kind of maverick writing makes us feel uneasy, angry, upset, offended, surprised, confused, saddened, and hopeless. But for the brave, it can forge emotional streams that carry us toward growth, gratitude, hope and a sense of ‘I am not alone’ as we sit in that uncomfortable and arresting space long enough.
This kind of writing, regardless of form, has the capacity to bring light, revelation and healing to our minds, our souls and even our bodies, as it trumpets
‘ You are not alone,
you are not alone,
you are not alone‘
and we are drawn into a new visage, emboldened by a voice that speaks life, drawing life from us and into the world around us.
How is this so? How is it that writing of suffering, injustice, malintent, depression, pain and irreconcilable experiences could cause such strengthening to our being?
How could someone else’s battles bring us further along in our journey? How could crying over the injustice others have been burdened to carry cause us to stand with them, leaving our own (if only temporarily) struggles on the curb to lift them off the gutter, and in doing so, deepen our journey and propel us forward toward greater strength and wellness?
I believe that the reality of suffering crashes against all our shores and sometimes the lighthouse has been smashed to pieces by the tsunami of pain we inevitably experience through this short existence, and sometimes what has been broken will never be restored.
In sharing our struggles and heartaches we shed a light on the deep spaces under the trembling waters and reveal the depth of our growth for others to see. And upon seeing, others take heart that there is life under those tumults, and they begin to search for their own quiet deep places to take refuge, now knowing they are not alone.
If bearing my soul to the multitudes is such a powerful way to guide others toward hope, victory, reconciliation and healing, why are the numbers of readers so low?
I reiterate:
We live in a society that swells with saccharine, predictable, cookie-cutter creativity and shun (or at the very least, tolerate) that which causes the breath to trip, the mind to lurch, and the heart to stop with its brazen approach to arrest us and force us to think beyond our initial offense, or sense of disgust and outrage and ponder what that reaction means in and for us.
There will always be writers, singers, musicians, and artists who take the lonely path, preferring to be as intimately authentic in their work as they are in their lives. Only those willing to breath in that fetid air of pain and suffering will recognise it, appreciate it, and grow from it.
I suspect few will read this post to the end and I am coming to a place of acceptance in this. I won’t profess I am there yet, but the more I write what I really think, the more courage I gain to let go of the societal expectation to run on the hamster wheel of social influence and unattainable ‘success’.
If just you, dear reader, have felt your heart stir, your skin crawl or your face flush with emotion, I have accomplished more than I could hope for if even thousands read it.
Thanks for giving me your time today.
Blessings to you today,
Miriam
Miriam E. Miles 