Words Without A Voice?

I can't believe this influx of incredibly kind comments! You know, I always tell myself that this blog is just for me - and in so many ways it is. I love visiting here, reading over old posts and comments, but it's the responses that really make this space come alive.

I want to pretend sometimes that if no one ever read this blog, if no one ever commented, if no one but me visited and contributed to it, that it would be fine with me because this is a space for me, by me. That (for better or for worse) is not honestly the case. I realized after the last post and it's uncharacteristically large number of comments that the validation and sense of belonging that comes from having your ideas/thoughts/feeling accepted (or even rejected) is really what drives me to keep writing here. I can't tell you how many times I have said to myself that I should close up shop and wind down this blog, but something keeps telling me no no, not yet...

I am a staunch believer in a few things, and one of them is the need to stand by people and help them develop a sense of empowerment. As I was saying at an interview last week, something I will always champion is the need to believe in people and to help them believe in the value and power of their ideas. We were talking about scholarly publications, but any context is an open door for someone to own and take pride in their ideas. I want to say that this place is a space where I want people to feel comfortable reading and thinking, but you know what? Maybe I've been afflicted by Smith's invisible hand, because if I am advertising that as my primary goal in writing, then I'm ignoring the fact that what I get out of it, is exactly what I'm hoping to foster: a feeling that my ideas matter...that I matter. How do you measure your worth? On a blog, often times, the metric is comments. Try as I might to deny that I wonder who reads this blog (apart from some wonderful and committed friends), the reality is that, an inbox full of comment notifications signals to me that my ideas do matter to someone. I'm not lamenting it, but I want to be more real/honest with myself about it. It doesn't make anything I write/say less sincere, or make me love this space any less - kind of the opposite, it makes me love it more.

Speaking of nurturing, I have been delighting in the spoils of our garden, and thought I might share a little peek at the bounty-licious spoils!

We have yellow tomatoes, thumbelina carrots, green beans and spinach in our community garden plot. Another tenant at our community garden was kind enough to give me some of his extra beets and radishes. Amazing things happen in gardens! Indoors (in our solarium), we have some resilient and fragrant basil and a chili plant that seems to need a bit of extra coddling. Sometimes I give it the last sip of my green tea for some love, which Manski seems to think is precisely the problem.

As the summer winds down (although it never really seemed to wind up in Calgary), I can't help but hope that I can keep some of the warmth from your support alive in my mind, to arm me against the occasional cool breeze of self-doubt.

And for my darling Ameena (as requested), a few photos from our hike in Banff a few weeks back...

The CN Pacific: never far away

The train is barely an ant on the canvas of the Rockies

The view from about halfway up Cory Pass. Check out the beautiful winding Bow River