Sometimes, you just need a safe place to land–like a friend’s couch, a good coffee shop at the end of the day, a blog post. What makes it safe? Your level of comfort with it, and your ability to be yourself within its context, whatever that might be.
After a long day today, I needed a safe place to land and found it in a few, blessed, unplanned places–not the least of which is this space right here. When I share thoughts here, no matter how general or personal, I consider it a safe place. I don’t feel this way because it’s a private journal; anyone could Google me and find this blog. I know when I write and subsequently hit the “publish” button that my thoughts are no longer silent, quiet ones, but ones I’ve exposed to others for their consideration, perusing, digesting, disdain or delight (well…hopefully, not their disdain, let’s be honest).
And perhaps that’s why it feels “safe” to me. Not because I’m not risking something by writing here. Ideally, I’m taking risks in a positive vein every time I write and make it public. It’s “safe” because I choose to share what I need/want/feel compelled to share in any given space and time, and then I place it out there, somewhere in the mix of all that’s swirling. And I do this with the intention of cultivating thoughts and conversations, relationships and a transparency that somehow make us all a little more introspective, vulnerable and real with ourselves and with one another. I know I won’t always achieve this, but already, you are helping me to do this one day at a time–through your comments and emails, and in conversations when we intersect in everyday life. Thank you. Thank you for helping to make this a safe place. It ought to be. And it will be, as long as I have anything to say about it.
To comfy couches, carefully crafted lattes, friends and this. I love landing here…