Letting it Lie Fallow
(Originally posted 9/3/2018) This is my garden.
I know, I know, I'm not sure “garden” best describes what's going on there, either. Despite my best spring fever intentions, other aspects of life have pushed the garden down to the “you can't create new time” section of my priority list. That section has grown fairly crowded during the early years of parenthood, unsurprisingly.
But there's an important truth there, that sometimes you need to let things lie fallow for a stretch of time.If you don't, you can work the ground to dust. Literally, in an agricultural sense, but it's also figuratively true. In our hyper-productive American culture, we've become disconnected from dormancy. We've lost our link to the slow cycle of soil.
Rest, shelving a project or a hobby for a time, is part of the process. I'll go so far to say that it's an active part of the process, even a necessary part of the process. Even if I had all the time in the world, it would be good to let the garden fallow for a year or maybe two, to let the soil rest and regenerate (though it probably would've been better to do so with cover crops, but hey). There may be things that are going fine, you're reaping great rewards from, but in order to sustain that into the future, you need to set it aside for a season and let it fallow, let it become fresh again and ready for a future harvest.
So, in similar fashion, this blog has been sitting fallow for a bit. I felt creatively drained, and took the spring/summer to let those wells refill. Of course, in doing so, I didn't realize that my site had been down for a couple months (whoops), but it's back in action, on a new platform, with some new features that I'll be writing about over the next few weeks. Most importantly, I'm refreshed and ready to get back to churning out more riffs on faith, life, and being human.
Peace and tenacity,