Relevance...

My phone battery had died and I didn't know it.  I carried the inert thing in my pocket and went for a walk.  It wouldn't have done me much good even if it were charged – the cell phone reception cuts in and out along the road that leads to our house.

I had managed to carve a little time away from the store and was guiltily playing hooky from the piles of work stacked on the kitchen counter... the floor... even the bed.

It was good to get away, even if just for a little bit.  I have batteries... other than my phone's... that need recharging too.

As I walked, I went over the things that I was not doing that I should be doing.  At several points, I thought about turning back.  Even though there was no set destination, my body knew that it wasn't finished putting one foot in front of the other.  My mind was another story.  "Maybe if I go back now, I'll be able to squeeze in another hour of daylight.  There are photos that need to be taken, there's shelves that need to be painted, there's dinner to be made..."

The grade of the road steepened and soon I was out of breath and the thoughts went from all the things I should be doing... that I could be doing... to the task of merely getting to the top of the hill.  I've become woefully out of shape since moving to the country.  I drive everywhere.  I took for granted that there was so much physical activity interwoven with city living.  The five-flight walk-up was an unavoidable task.  Walking to the subway station was necessary.  Carrying bags of groceries for several blocks was a daily ritual.  I was stronger and more toned because I had to be.

It brought to mind something else that I used to do more regularly... blog.

Blogging, believe it or not, has been such an influential part of my own story.  An example would be that I would push myself to do more things to make my blog more interesting.  I would go to the obscure art opening or poetry reading, because I wanted to seem exciting and in touch with what was going on.  It forced me to be in the moment, capturing images and ideas of the every day.

When I first started my blogging adventures, no one hardly did it.  In fact, I kept it to myself mostly.  In the early days things were different.  It wasn't even called "blogging" then.  It was before SEO and helpful books about how gain a following and the best way to network.  It was before people printed their blog addresses on business cards and had web seminars on creating meaningful experience in the digital world.  It was a private, yet very public, place for me to emote and give voice to my thoughts and feelings.  I was searching for my voice and my identity.  I didn't know it at the time, but I was trying to puzzle out who I was.... who I am... who I will become.

In July of 2006, I started this blog.  Can you believe it has been almost seven years?  I have posted approximately 2,882 posts.  (I say "approximately" because over the years I have done some weeding and deleting of posts.)  I've chronicled my personal ups and downs, blog hopped, done giveaways galore, and shared my life and aspirations as an artist.  In that time period I have found a partner, had cancer, reconnected with a long-lost sibling, given up city life and opened a store.  I have had two cats, four digital cameras, three computers, one iPad, and lots and lots of coffee.  Through my blog I have experienced the best and worst of human behavior.  I have met so many beautiful people who have challenged and engaged my mind and my heart.  These seven years have been full.

I stood at the top of hill, watching the sun slip behind clouds and eventually dip below the horizon.  As I walked back, in the fading light, a chorus of insects and amphibians rose.  Fireflies signaled to one another in the tall grass and leafy trees.  My phone was dead and rested in a rustling cradle of keys, lint and yesterday's receipts... and I didn't know and most of all, I didn't care.

The wooden steps creaked as I climbed them to my home.  Sweat trickled down my brow, my legs ached, and I was blissfully tired.  I stood a little longer on the deck, not wanting to go back inside.  Even though it was not completely dark, the stars had come out.  My walk was over.