United States, Spain, Canada, Republic of Korea, Brazil, Australia, India, United Kingdom, United Arab Emirates — 9 countries, 233 hits on my blog in one day, 1604 hits in 3 weeks and 3 days on 30 blogs. Numbers again. Numbers and places. People reading, or at the very least stopping in.
Every morning I wake up ready to write the blog. I mostly don’t know what I’m going to write about as I let the dogs out, let Lily Belle back in with hubby to snooze a while longer, let Eugene finish off Mason Diablo the Cat’s breakfast, do some practice with Eugene — sit, stay, leave it, roll over, shake — get my water, get settled on the chair, then Gino gets settled on my lap, and then the blog idea is there. And the words come out marching across the page like little messengers of love or angst or renovations or memories or thoughts that float to the surface about the man and his grass in a small town 50 years ago. And it’s a little bit of heaven for a small person like me to think that someone in Republic of Korea, or Brazil or Australia, or India has stopped for a peek at my blog.
Lest Ego get involved, Id says, “But, you posted two blogs yesterday morning, and then reblogged that awesome blog last night, so that huge number yesterday was pumped up by extra blogging. Id is so true, and Ego slinks away into her little place in my gut to ruminate about that darned Id and her honesty, but it is Ego that got me to put myself out there. Gave me the gumption and fearlessness.
I hear that a lot from people who are reading. You “really put yourself out there” and Ego fuels that desire to write down the bones, but Integrity is the one who truly rules my insides, both Id and Ego are nothing without her, they both know that. And Integrity says, “Brush off the Editor from your shoulder and get to it, otherwise you’ll have mean old Regret around to haunt you, and no one, not a single person ever plans to invite Regret to the party.”
And this is basically the instinctual, intellectual and creative struggle inside my heart that fuels my writing.
Regret, no one truly plans to invite her to the party, yet she often shows up because we are careless, or tired, or afraid. Regret preys on our weaknesses, so that in the end, we say, I regret that I didn’t…I regret that I did…you can fill in the blanks. You’ve invited Regret, too. We all have. Until Regret has the final say in something, we don’t realize how strongly a part she plays in our unhappiness. It takes Courage to stand up to Regret, to make sure she does not have the final say in a certain relationship, in our careers, our marriages, our parenting, our lives.
Ego, Id and Integrity know that the reason I write is to touch someone’s life, to reach across rivers and oceans and over mountains, and through valleys and deserts and forests to the mind and heart of someone I’ll never meet, but maybe, just maybe, they will relate to my words in their world.