This is my 1401st post on my blog. WordPress (kindly or not) has been reminding about getting close to 1400 for several weeks, which has served only to give me writer’s block.
Normally I don’t hold with writer’s block. I’m a writer; I write. I can’t stop. If I don’t have access to my blog, I write in my journal. If my journal isn’t handy, I type misspelled notes in my phone with my thumbs. If I don’t have my phone, I write on scraps of paper. Mostly, I lose them, but it none of it keeps me from writing. If I want to think better, I hold a pen in my hand.
But that 1400th post choked me. Ought it to be something significant? What is significant? Certainly not my first few posts, which were (sadly enough) about oatmeal.
This morning I made oatmeal again. Oatmeal is ordinary. My posts are ordinary. My blog is ordinary.
Because the beauty in my life comes from the ordinary.
This has been the lesson I have learned from my blog.
My blog is a written record of the small ordinary. Like using a macro lens, writing in this place helps me see the small gifts buried in the detritus on the counter.
Today’s ordinary gifts:
- a cucumber-melon candle
- artwork by a friend
- children laughing
- a basket full of library books