Recurring themes as I write about life

It occurs to me that there are certain themes that I come back to again and again in my journal entries going back to 1998.

It has been a transformative journey during all these many years of writing online.  What I have cumulatively written is a memoir of sorts, not an organized book, but rather numerous brief chapters, personal essays that delve into every imaginable topic and subject I can think of tvat interests me, including sufficient biographical and generational details to situate me squarely in the realm of Aging Baby Boomers.   Much of a personal nature has been left out even though both Open Diary and Prosebox require anonymity.  Understandably so in this day and age.  I’m sure, however, that under the cloak of anonymity, many diarists have let it all out.  These sites have been cathartic and purgative for them.  All well and good.  But that’s not for me.   I  have always been careful about what I let others know about myself.   But I can confidently say I have reached out often in this space, connecting with so many amazing people.  It sure has helped me know myself better and has spared me the depths of loneliness I feel sure I would have fallen into otherwise.

Isn’t that what we do this for? To connect with others?  My online journal or diary is very, very different from the ones I have sporadically kept in paper journals since 1970.  Those were never read by anyone but myself and kept at a distance from anyone who might conceivably find it or read it. It simply had to be that way.

And yet, as I was telling someone the other day, what I write here is  what I might have written in some notebook in my handwriting.  But as a former newspaper writer, I like an audience of readers, however tiny.  It doesn’t matter.   The Internet became the catalyst for me to write  regularly and frequently.

To re-iterate, I am unwilling to reveal but so much. I am not sure how much more personal and revealing I can make my online writing without compromising my privacy. But I have made the effort to write with candor and honesty.  And, those recurring themes I mentioned earlier and which I am about to get into, have appeared primarily in my online journals, at Open Diary and Prosebox.

First, I often write about my past.  I guard zealously documents, papers, photos, mementoes, and writing from childhood on, encompassing grade school and high school, through college and adulthood.  I could not bear to think of parting with some of those papers that I have quoted from on often.  They are the invaluable written records of my past.  There are many other types of memorabilia that I have saved for a lifetime. Boxes of them. Some people will say they are too busy living in the present to hold onto things from the past, but I always contend that it is those writings, those objects and treasures from my past that reveal what I value most.  They are the physical artifacts that symbolize and document my inner personal development. They are my personal histories. I like putting it that way.

Secondly, I write often about the power of “place” in my life, both the special place I now call home, as well as many of the other places where I have lived, even if just briefly, and also the many places that I have encountered on trips around the country by car so long ago now. For years, I was searching for home, some spot on the map where my imagined happiness could be found. In constantly searching, I did not find it, but in at last ceasing my endless wandering, I found it. I discovered that the home I was seeking was, in actuality, always there waiting for me. I just didn’t realize it until circumstance and necessity, as well as desire, led me to where I am now and for the past 26 years.  Firmly settled here in this old city, home to some of my ancestors, I am able to write with affection and great detail about this city and the nearby beach where my family spent our summer vacations. I know that I am not leaving any time soon, and both places have become inextricably a part of my life.

Thirdly, I write about the great joy of my life which is my connection to Nature, to the natural world. I write about the special parks and preserves where I find a deep sense of peace and belonging. I take special pleasure in describing my visits to the ocean, my observations of the salt marshes and section of beach where I read and think, and have gazed at the clouds on the horizon so many afternoons and evenings over decades now.  I write about the seasons because I am constantly aware of the changing cycles of life through the passing of each season. I have my favorite times of the year, but I am equally at home in all the seasons.

Finally, I write about all that interests me and which I wish to share with others. My mind sweeps across many disciplines of knowledge and I have a curiosity about so many branches of learning. That is why I am glad I studied the liberal arts in college and chose journalism for my first career.  It enabled me to explore writing and photography on a daily basis and do it for a living. It satisfied my curiosity to interview and get to know about the accomplishments of people across all walks of life. I did that for years. Now, in my journals, I can continue writing about things that interest me just as I did years ago in my newspaper columns.

Life is a great adventure, and the older I get, the more mysterious and beautiful it seems. And this is also because so much of it begins to make sense. Trying to convey in writing what I have learned and experienced is what I am privileged to be able to do here