I think this blog has become something like the Basil plant in my kitchen. I bought it in the summer months. It was lush and green and sweet smelling then. I put it in my window in a clay pot that I bought just for it and promised it and myself that I would water it daily. I would pay attention to it…daily.
And I did pay attention to it daily…Or, at least, I did pay attention to it daily until after some months of paying attention to it daily.
After cooking with some of the leaves for weeks, I would forget about it. Or, I didn’t really forget about it, it’s just that life got in the way. I would see it whenever I washed the dishes, and I would think about it, but I always felt too busy to attend to it until its leaves would start to yellow from lack of water. I would panic then and water it, give it more sun, and baby it in the way I said I would when I first bought it. And it, being a cooperative plant, would “come back to life.” Everyday that I would shower it with some TLC, the plant would turn green again and the leaves would separate to suggest some promise.
Right now, my plant is green, but it is not really growing. I neglect it too much.
Perhaps if I did do more to it and this blog, it could yield something promising. But maybe, I’ve been thinking…maybe I don’t really want that plant or this blog to grow. I think I want to just water these things and give them enough for it to be possible for me to nurture them again and see them get green then wither and get green again. This blog, like that plant, I realize, are exercises in nurturing something just for the sake of nurturing them. I nurture the plant because I imagine myself a gardener. I nurture this blog because I am a writer. I think. But sometimes even that isn’t so clear.
I think mostly my care and neglect of this space has more to do with habit and the joy I get in doing this habit.