I saw a tweet and replied. The tweet was about how difficult blogging is now, knowing that most blog posts can be summarized with a simple tweet on Twitter instead. So I replied, offering a challenge, that for every tweet you tweet, you write a blog post—explaining, demonstrating, jumping to other thoughts, whatever, something, anything.
If the challenge is accepted by the tweeter or not, we'll see. But I was thinking, that I'd do well to accept my own challenge. I've been looking for an excuse to re-open that vein I'd allowed to scab over anyway. By pure force I've done it again and again, began writing after a period of pause. And so, I've been slowly and gradually attempting to write here and there more and more, slowly building-back momentum as I do, scratching that scab in order to get it to flow. This little challenge is perfect, I think.
The thought had dawned on me only just the other night even. That I can write more by elaborating on my tweets. Funny how that works. And then the universe bends and finds a perfect way almost immediately for us to apply our musings—hocus-pocus hubbub.
Lately on my walks, I've been thinking of tweets to write. And then when I arrive home or to the job, I tweet what I've thought-up. So I've been on Twitter a lot lately. Which I've recognized, and don't much like.
These walks are very fruitful anyway. Walking is very relaxing to me. Usually I'm guiding my thoughts, contemplating. And lately, I'll be purposely thinking of a tweet. How can I condense what's on my mind into the simplest words I can? But I'm finding more and more, that I can free my mind too, and just be walking, smelling, looking, the thoughts still running,—always—but in the background unattended—I've seen it put. And sometimes, I won't be thinking, but just walking instead, observing Nature as it smiles all round me, growing. And then when I return again to thought,—which is always within no more than a few minutes, though with practice, stretching, I believe it becomes longer and longer—I find a tweet laid right there in my lap, so to speak, all ready to go. It's like magic, more hocus-pocus hubbub.
But I need to be on Twitter less, tweeting less. I feel anyway. And I need to write more.
So I've been thinking more about the blog. A nagging feeling it is. I feel incomplete.
But I needed a break. You can see by the dates of my previous blog posts, that I was fairly prolific for months. I averaged a new blog post about every 2 days or so for months, at least something. And I wrote outside of the blog posts too. From Derek Sivers, the free is the practice, behind the scenes is the product. And I wrote between blog posts enough to squeeze-out a novel. And then I was tapped-out. A break was much needed—even if not—in order to avoid burning-out completely, evaporating the very last droplets of liquid in the well, instead of letting that magical water remaining multiply and refill the reservoir.
And then Twitter became my favorite distraction, if not creating myself. And it's been very fruitful in my inactivity, very inspiring and nourishing, Twitter—after having tailored my timeline to drown the noise, that is. The tweets I'd tweeted, I realized, I barely had to think. From my own blog posts and outside writings I just recycled old thoughts into tweets. So now I'll try to reverse it. Because I've been thinking-up these recent tweets from nothing—well, from inspiration always actually, filtered through me. So in order to write more, I'll elaborate.