Most of the blogs I follow I choose to follow because they amuse me, make me laugh, or simply brighten my day. Several of the bloggers, these great writer friends of mine, I think of as my friends even though we have never met and most likely never will. We share little bits and pieces of our lives with one another. We have a connection, a commonality that I find greatly rewarding. A couple of them I even exchange emails with and have vague and distance plans to meet over coffee someday. But not all the blogs I follow make me happy. Some of them anger me or make me sad.
One blog in particular… But I will get to that. First you should know that I am awful at following news, news of any sort. This has always been a problem of mine but since having kids the focus of my attention and energy has drifted more and more inward to my little family. And while I think this can be natural and healthy, I also am finding it more concerning as this feeling of disconnect with the world in general grows. Things, big things are happening out there but so are little things that have less of a voice and tend to get pushed aside with each shouting headline. I am ashamed to say that I get most of my “news” from day old Colbert Reports, random friends’ Facebook status, and various blogs that are mostly satirical in nature. None of these sources are really helping me stay abreast of current world affairs. Except when they do.
Back to that blog, that one that is so beautifully written but that I find so painful to read. Words smeared like thick unruly oil paint, harsh lines of charcoal gray, streaks of burnt sienna, and slashes of dusty yellow sunshine barely noticeable amidst the dark colors used over and over again at the hands of this blogger, this painter who uses words instead of paint. I cringe when I get a notification that she has posted again. I cringe because of the horrific topics and the rawness in the way she writes about them. But I also cringe because to me the reality of human trafficking, domestic abuse, police brutality, and abject poverty can simply go away with a click of my mouse. It pains me that it is so easy to disregard so much pain.
The wordsmith behind this blog, Maiya, lives in Papua New Guinea and she writes from personal experience as well as from the experiences of her neighbors, friends, and community. I am ashamed that I had to look up Papua New Guinea on my globe and that I know next to nothing about this far away land.
I am honestly not sure what I am trying to get at. I am not naïve to the daily sufferings around the world, one does not need to look far to find it, certainly not as far as half way around the world. But yesterday when this blogger seemed to falter, to show signs of giving up, I could not get out of my head what a loss it would be, not just to me but to others. While the headlines roar and get more than their just due of attention, it is the whispers that chill me. It is the whispers that get my attention. And Maiya is a poet of whispers.
Ok, sorry for skittering sideways on you but I needed to get this out of my head. My next post will be about sasquatches, unless I get lazy and you don’t hear from me until Sunday in which case I will throw a Simple Sunday post at you and you will have to wait until early next week to read about sasquatches.