April 29, 2019 • 2 minutes
A long time ago I wrote every day for a year. That blog was called Slow Gospel.
Slow Gospel offered a space where people could slow down, even for a moment.
The entries were brief, not longer than 500 words.
That was back in 2012. Things were already humming along pretty quickly back then in the big old world.
After a year I took the site down. It did not gain an audience as I hoped it would. So it lost meaning for me to write it.
At one point, I wanted to write longer things. I had an idea that writing longer meant I would eventually write a book.
I thought longer writing meant the writing was more sophisticated and meant more, even though I knew simplicity was actually complex, and multilayered, hitched to everything if done right.
I didn’t expect to turn aside from that route, and begin writing even shorter than before. Distilling experiences, thoughts, feelings down to a few lines.
And now I feel the urge to write shorter and shorter.
I want to think about people, not about problems. What are people attracted to? What gives a sense of relief?
Pounding down on the problems of the world creates more problems. It’s like weeding. Remove a plant, and there is space for another. The weeds will never end.
I’ll cook them for my meal.