When I was 21 years of age, I used to be a prolific blogger. I used to write all of the time, almost doing a post every day, about a different topic. For a while I had a theme for each day of week, later things kind of fell into reruns, with less frequent posts. Eventually, blog posts and essays became an occasional part of the blog – not something I wrote on every day.
When I was 21, I felt I had unique experiences and unique views that ought to be expressed. Indeed, many of them have been expressed on this blog. But now that I am 30, I am more interested in what other folks have to say, and sharing what they share. Sometimes it better to listen, and if somebody hits something right on the nose, to share their content, rather then right my own. Not all works have to be creative – and indeed, many know better then I know.
Many life stories I haven’t chosen to share. Sometimes, I am just not willing to share my mistakes, lest play up the embarrassment of the story. Other times, I can’t share on promise to others to keep what I know in the back of head, and not public knowledge. And in many cases, I plain lack the words to write them down.
Today starts the month of December. It’s quite a remarkable thing because it seems like it just was November and then October with the beauty of all the fall colors. Hunting season has been under way for almost two weeks now, and Thanksgiving came and went so quickly.
It’s the month when we celebrate Christ’s birthday, and are overwhelmed by crass consumerism of the Christmas Season. For some it’s a time of meaningless giving, while for others it’s a true celebration of the birth of Jesus Christ, a child whose much fabled birth would forever change history. We attend religious services and light candles to celebrate his birth.
It’s also time of celebration, with many special Christmas parties and family gatherings. We see the first snows of the year, as our families and friends come back together for fantastic meals and time for fellowship.
December is the final month of the year. It’s a time of looking back at the past year and all that has changed. Much has changed in the world around us, and we all have changed as individuals. We look forward to a new year and all that it will bring to our society.
I have a story to tell and a life to share.
I want people to read and experience a little piece of my world.
I have a desire to express.
I want to be an individual.
It’s not because I want to impress anyone.
It’s not for a girl friend, a boy friend, my boss or anyone else.
I just want to develop a sense of identity.
Some kind of meaning.
Reflect upon my own priorities in life.
I want to figure out right and wrong.
I want to be able to look back and see what I’ve done wrong
and right.
About a month ago I went down to Storm King Mountain to go for a hike on this historic mountain and explore some of the lower Hudson Valley. I drove over the Storm King Bypass Highway, stopped and took a few pictures. The views in this area on a warm spring day where truly fantastic, and I was inspired for a long time to come.
I took Route 9W and Route 32 all the way down to Storm King. I looked out over West Point then drove up to the Overlook on the Bypass. I went up to the parking lot and took the steep trail up the mountain, somewhat afraid of heights. I looked around and my breath was taken away. I walked further and looked around some more. I was inspired.
I looked down at the sweeping and inspirational views of the Hudson River. The river was so powerful as where the mountains. The river winds through this area. I hike further on the mountain and got inspirational views to the west, and then to the North. I wrapped around to the south side of the mountain and looked south on the river. More beauty.
There was no escaping the industrial landscape though. The river was dotted by power plants, bridges, and the Newburgh oil terminal. None of these things where pretty, but necessary for our lives so dependent on electricity and fossil fuels.
I couldn’t believe that the plan originally was to blow this mountain up and make it into a massive pump storage plant, inaccessible to all but Consolidated Edison employees. This would have destroyed such beauty, despite the real benefit the plant would have had to reducing air pollution and carbon dioxide emissions.
I went down the easy trail back to the parking lot. Not as impressive of a view, but an easy hike on back. With a broken boot it was a bit painful and resulted in blisters on my foot. Still I enjoyed the beauty. On the way back home I visited Bear Mountain State Park Overlook, and then went across the Bear Mountain Bridge, and took Route 9D north. More amazing views.
Writing is one of many forms of self-expression. It’s about releasing a part of yourself, and allowing the whole world to experience it. There are many secrets that lie within the individual, only to be relased in a note scribbled in a notepad or typed upon a keyboard.
There are many ways one can preserve an emotion, time, or place in the future besides writing. There is photography in still and motion, and audio recordings. All of them came after the written word and seem to lose some of their meaning when recorded. Writing only includes what the individual thinks is important and my exclude things not noticed or overlooked by the individual. Writing is best for capturing an individual’s emotions at a specific time.
We evolve every second, and it’s impossible to go back in time to fully understand the context of each sentence. Nobody can revisit a particular thought. Words are only as good as the fedality of the emotion they represent. We have to be careful not to distort the word from it’s orginal context.
I certainly do not know how to fully write down my experiences. As soon as I experience something, it changes me in a way that I can not go back. I see the world different minute by minute. Things have changed in my life since the last word I wrote was written, and I can never truly go back to that time in my life.
I close my eyes for a moment to pause and think about what I just wrote. I’m already in a different place, despite breathing the same fresh mountain air I did a minute ago and hearing the same sounds of nature from a minute earlier. I’m doomed in keeping the past alive, but I’m not particularly saddened as I know I can experience other great things.
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