Menosophical [men-oh-soffy-cul]; the condition of waxing introspective - an occasional series on the more deep and meaningful.

A passing comment by one of my lovely new "connexions" got me pondering.  It was in relation to the early days of blogging.  She remarked how it was both fun yet scary.

Scary?

It never even crossed my mind to be in a state of fear about this and I wondered how one could be.  I do not wish at all to belittle the sentiment.  This is merely the curiosity of the counselor and philosophical seeker, ever introspecting about the nature of Mankind and how it can help myself, the individual of the species, to grow.

The thought arose, "ought one to be scared of letting the greater world into one's own little, hardly-worth-a-pinch-of-salt, world?"

Certainly there should be some level of circumspection; all the warning notices when setting up point to the fact that there are plenty of folk who perhaps have no limitations or self-restraint.  Indeed, as mentioned previously, when simply following random threads in Blogland it soon became clear there were places to avoid.  Each to their own, of course.  Live and let live and all that.

A censor rating system for bloggers might be an idea though.

How would this cause one to feel in any way timorous or even fearful?  Then it struck me.  Comments.  Or worse, NO comments.  Writing and posting (or photographing  and posting or whatever) is all good and well.  The purpose of blogging though is the sharing.  Sharing implies feedback - touchy/feely - possible criticism - maybe even downright castigation.  That last one is unlikely, unless one has gone online with a thunderous roar of one's own.  The first two would generally be accepted as welcome. 

Many folk though have trouble receiving criticism.  Multiple factors are involved of course and this is not the place for a treatise; it is, however, worth noting that the baseline factor is ego.  Not in the megalomaniac sense, but in the sense-of-identity scenario.   If someone has a difference of opinion and we are super-invested in our 'product', it can prick the hide somewhat.  But at least they cared enough, felt enough, to respond.  Why do we tie ourselves in knots about such things?  Particularly if we are running a simple life-interest type of blog with no special axe to grind?  Have a say then get out of the way.

Ah yes, but then one realised that there was a desire for comments.  Any comments.  Connection.  This of course is a form of validation.  No matter how independent, mature or detached one is, connection matters.  Finding common ground, comparing notes, even getting helping pointers.

That's where insecurity, if it is allowed, can seep in.  Will anyone want to bother with a mid-aged-mudhead and her ramblings?  With so many incredible photos already out there, what difference is my attempt going to make to anyone's day?  Creative writing? Tell 'er she's dreamin'! Who - for crying out loud - is ever going to want to look at mandalas?  Phah!  

Strewth!  What was I thinking???

There. I found a bit of deep scary-fication.  What on earth was I doing, flaunting myself upon the ether?  Our Gurudev wrote "If you can't stand your own company, why inflict it on others?"  So it didn't last long.  I am not by nature fearful.  Doubt-filled yes, fearful no.  I am also very content and have no trouble being in my own company.  As a general rule in the 'actual facing' world, it seems my company is enjoyed, so why would it not be so in Blogland? 

That brought up the next potential sticking point.  Finding one's voice, as they say. Well, call me strange (or anything else, I can't hear you after all), but it all just happened.  Perhaps because I am secure internally, as well as never having been one for 'putting up a front', the voice you read is pretty much the voice that speaks - just a wee bit more coherent.

(which should have you worrying about my state of speech!  Think menosappelled.)

There has been no great planning.  There still isn't.  Except now there is a notion to grow things such that "The Serious Blog" can get built at a later date.  So I write it as it is and however it decides to fall out of the brain.  Sometimes that's okay.  Other times mediocre.  It's all fun.  It's all learning.  It's all practice. It's all sand-papering the rough edges.

Scary? 

No. (Not yet anyway…)