Voice
One of my blog readers asked me a couple of days ago if my blog was a private thing. Her comment caused me to ponder. The blog is public in that anyone who knows the address can read it any time they like. On the other hand, it is located in a very obscure place and to this point I’ve share the address with a limited number of people. Why is that, I wondered? Why have I only shared it with friends and family, people I know who won’t be too harsh in their criticism?
Other than the obvious fragile ego issues, I’m concluding that it is a matter of voice, or lack thereof. For me, there are some very special people who have earned the right to speak, to share their voice or their understandings with a larger audience. I have authors in mind, both fiction and nonfiction, who grip me with their insights and images of reality. A few friends, professors and pastors fall in this category as well, men and women who challenge me with their lives and with their words. If pressed, you could probably identify some of these people for your life as well. At the other extreme are people who always have something to say, but seem to say very little. They speak, but have no voice for my life. Some of the most popular authors and speakers have little appeal to me because what they say, on the whole, seems trite.
I like commentary that burrows beneath the obvious, that looks at reality from new perspectives. I want whatever voice I might have to do that. Unfortunately, I am seldom sastified with what I produce. Sometimes what I write appears to be nothing more than recycled laundry blowing in the wind. On the positive side, a few of you have written to say “keep it up.” That is gratifying. Either you like my laundry or you like what I have to say. I am a mute in search of a voice. As I find my voice, if it speaks to your experience, I’m glad. If it allows you to see something from a new perspective, I’m thrilled. If it’s trite, I’ve failed.
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