Skip to content


I’ve been asking myself what I want from this site, and why. It’s remained up, despite weeks and then months of negligence, patiently awaiting… what? A crisis? A calling? I want to write again but insecurity demands a reason. Tragic, perhaps, but true.

So I’ve wondered, sometimes, whether I ought just commit to a focus, pick a practice, perhaps launch one of those commercially-transparent “The ‘Blank’ Projects” with an eye toward developing a name, a readership, a book deal, a well-defined owned space in the collective conceptual consciousness, and immediately fast-forward into disillusion. So no, not that.

I miss participating, though. I miss the ongoing meditative conversation with a certain literary world, one more relaxed and lovely than more newer online technologies provide. I miss the richness.

What prompted this post was a discussion about this very medium, and about the twin tines of the technology it represents–the ways in which our tools separate and connect us both, and the ways in which they can both expand our attention globally while pulling it from an as-important focus on he more immediat local. In theory I love both, and want all; in reality I must confess I use the former to escape the latter, and vice versa.

Escape aside, though, I realize it’s a gift, in some ways, and a luxury, to have the option and the tension of both. When my mundane day-to-day feels lacking, or dull and without redemption, I love being able to turn to some larger sphere, to offer up the crumbs of a place-based experiencing to the mosaic of a larger incomprehensible whole. And when that whole–when the clamoring voices and human babblings–feels too much like some chaotic abstract, I love in turn being able to sink into the texture of the present moment, and to bring the larger context deep within.

Perhaps the tracing of those sine waves is enough; perhaps the cycling of those patterns, and the ability to honor and dance between them, is worth more than I’d admit myself to allow. I keep wanting finalities and givens, absolutes and answers, when the reality–and the future–lies is what is open and undetermined and flowing. (I don’t know why I feel the need to keep reminding myself. Shouldn’t once be enough?)

This is too abstract, though. The truth is, I am listening to a symphony of rain at midnight. The truth is, you are reading this at some other hour, in some other storm. THe truth is that depth is found in neither one nor the other, but in the holding, and the wholing, of both.

What do I want from this? Conversation. Connection. Committment. A return.

5 Comments Post a comment
  1. Skyraven #

    I myself was just wondering last week why I had not heard from you or others. I was unable to remember your name or the Website to chance upon to find out. That’s just the way it is , “I thought.” Now this morning I arise and see the Autobiology, your name and perhaps the distance we have put between us. For a reason, maybe not, but then again only each of us knows the answer.
    The weather has changed, and I can relate to that being a reason. A slowing down, a coolness in the air and spirit. I think of the months passed and all that has happened in my life since the expiration of your writings.
    I applied for retirement, and quit a job that was making me “unhuman” I am living from day to day, week to week, month to month without any income until December. I took a trip to Michigan to see my 85 yr. old mother, and my youngest sister, with my daughter in May, and it was good. This was all dishelved into sadness as my daughter rejected me again due to my remarried status of 2 yrs. ago, and “what a sinner I am to have moved on.” It took me a month or two to finally let go of the GAME, which she has played since my divorce from her father many yrs ago. What is a religion that keeps some so unopened and encased in evil, unkindness, and guessing who exactly is this god we profain to know. So, I stopped, let judgement go and continue to live life as I was meant to…Free and uncompromising with a song in my heart and a smile on my face.
    I have missed you, Siona and your writings…I hope you are well in all aspects of your LIFE. I send you Blessings and Light today and everday! NAMASTE

    October 10, 2010
  2. THe truth is that depth is found in neither one nor the other, but in the holding, and the wholing, of both.
    Beautiful and an apt msg for 10/10/10 which itself is a date that is ephemeral as our human calendars are, and yet can have such a powerful effect on something as airy and as real as the connection among us.

    October 10, 2010
  3. When insecurity is the author, you are right, reason clamors for attention and wants to put on a show — no, the BEST show. Theater has its charms, of course, but it is a tool in a way, too. Characterized communication, when, as you wrote, what you are looking for is conversation. And it is through that conversation here that I hear an echo of the rain at midnight and I know it’s not a set, but the context of your writing. Welcome back!

    October 10, 2010
  4. DiamondLil #


    Great to hear your voice again. I’ve missed it. I can’t find my place on .ning – don’t care for the platform – and have been carrying on the conversation with a small group of Gaians through Google Buzz instead. I started my own blog and it went well for a while but I came to a similar point as you did. I couldn’t really get a conversation going there and that’s all I wanted, really. And so I fell off and now it languishes.

    I think I feel like if I can’t write something profound every time, what’s the point? But indeed I think writing is the point. It’s really the way I figure out what I’m thinking, what I’m feeling. Judgment is a cruel mistress that I need to cut loose. Easier said than done. She is seductive, an easy little tart.

    Do come back Siona. We miss your voice.

    October 11, 2010
  5. Two quotes for you, Siona, that may speak to this dilemma of what to write, and why to write. These are from Christian thinkers, but people who’ve gone well beyond the usual dogma. I think of this “silence” or “profundity” as something beyond any religion, and it is the space where we meet what some call God — but it’s also the space in which we meet the Other, and experience, for a little while, the communion we all seek. To me, there’s actually no distinction between “God” and what we find deep in ourselves and others. Writing and speaking are like vehicles we use to make our approach, but then the moments of “yes” open up in silence. I’m quite capable of forgetting all of this. Thank you for reminding me, lately, through your own questioning.

    The more we hear, the more we open, until the dazzling obscurity of the secret silence is manifested. The grande profundum does not become less deep, the hidden does not become less unknown: it cannot be exhausted. “Real life is meeting,”(1) says Buber, the meeting of one deep with another, one willingness to open itself to another self. The hidden vibrations manifest themselves as “intelligence and attention.”(2) That is the fullness of life.
    On Presence, Variations and Reflections. Ralph Harper, Trinity Press. Pg. 101. (1) Buber, I and Thou. (2) C.S. Lewis, A Grief Observed.

    …we protect ourselves from the love of nearness by thinking of ourselves as isolated individuals and embracing what I shall call the myth of radical individualism. This myth is usually expressed by words like autonomy and selfhood; it includes the belief that, in every way that is important, we stand alone and disconnected…to see ourselves this way helps us remain in denial about nearness. If we are connected to everyone, it means we are available — available for any kind of love or any kind of violence. But if we can imagine our “real selves” as if they were enclosed in a secret place deep within us, only to be revealed when we choose to reveal them, then we can feel safe…
    At heart, radical individualism is the self’s bid to replace God: my will supercedes God’s initiative.

    Thomas Briedenthal, Christian Households: The Sanctification of Nearness

    October 11, 2010

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s