Roads to Joy

When I set up this little blog, I thought I had two purposes in mind: to develop a large readership by concentrating on a few salient contexts; to consciously think joyful thoughts, rather than sinking into an endless morass of self-recrimination. The daily readers who have drifted in to these entries are so much appreciated — you are so very welcome! But on the whole, I think this exercise has been more important in terms of the latter context. I feel that my mental health has been enhanced by this approach — I think that with the morning homily smiling back at me, I tend to face the day with a little more bravery.

Whether that bravery is helpful to anyone else is almost another matter. Of course every kind comment, reflection and musing coming back to me is another fillip of joy, amplifying the smile and striking a resonant chord; I love the responses, truly. But the prime motivation of each entry has no longer become to reach out, but rather to reach in, to seek out the place of solace within my own mind, to keep the demons at bay and to protect myself.

As some readers have noted, sometimes my musings tend to the philosophical, sometimes their very mundanity elicits a familiar chuckle. Sometimes, in other words, I may be approaching the holy grail of universality. Actually, that’s very wonderful, from here in this remote rural place, to sense that I can reach out and touch someone else’s sensibility, to raise a returning smile.

I’ve been lurking on a Twitter feed from a variety of poets. Mostly I can’t understand what they’re on about, but one thing I do sense: when a particular line resonates, when a set of words is configured so that they reflect the reader’s own feelings, then the tweets are forthcoming in appreciation. I can appreciate how the poet touches their reader, and how the reader’s response in turn touches the poet’s heart.

On further reflection, then, I’m compelled to feel, after all, though I write as if to encourage myself, that this blog does not exist in a vacuum, that I am not only writing to myself, but that I’m also reaching out, looking and listening for the echo.

Thank you so much, dear readers, for being there, at the other end of a tenuous electronic connection, for making this space a little echo chamber of delight.