There is without question a benefit to having a blog that no one reads. I have enormous latitude in selecting what I'd like to focus on, and I don't have any audience expectations to worry about. Of course, it could make you wonder about what the point is.
Well, I suppose I'll answer that. I would, at some point, very much like to have a blog that some people do in fact read. If I were to have a number of people reading what I am writing, I'd want the time invested to be worthwhile. So, this is practice. The difficulty is to write a blog that is coherent and integrated rather than tangential and unfocused. This would be easier if I wanted to write about one thing. I want to write about many things, actually, from a variety of perspectives- personal, experiential, professional.
In a lot of ways, I find this to be the conundrum of my life. In my clearest moments, I can glimpse integration and wholeness, and briefly see the patterns of possibility that animate my hopes and dreams. And at other times, those same patterns seem lifeless, frozen and rote. They don't inspire action, they don't even inspire alertness. At these times, the mechanical nature of the taxonomic mind renders even the most inspired vision to be but an overwhelming and insignificant set of tasks.
A blog is an attempt to utilize written language to convey a perspective on a given set of topics, unfolding over time. As the unfolding occurs, I'm left wondering if I can maintain fidelity to an idea- the original word that is the name of this blog- or if in my wandering I'll become unmoored from that altogether, left to start a new blog, that I can arbitrarily set as a marker for a point that denotes leaving one set of categorical experience for another.
If I had any remaining readers, I'm sure I've lost you now.
Perhaps next time I'll revisit the concept Permavorism, and see if there is still relevance, or if I've left the virtual building.