driving

It seems at though I’ve committed to blogging every single day. I’ve always wanted to do it, but…well I guess it just wasn’t my time. Today is the 23rd day of January and so far I’ve blogged every single day. That’s all the evidence I need to show that I mean to take it seriously this time.

When we move a previously marginal aspect of our lives to the center, we start to be very much bothered by things that before were mere trivialities. My favorite poetry teacher back in the day told me something about titles I’ve never forgotten: How you title a piece gives the reader a map on how to read it.

I’ve hated the title of this blog ever since I started using it. Part-Time Buddha was simply the name of a blog I had a long time ago. I liked it then and it fit that blog at the time; it served its purpose and did it well.

But it hasn’t fit this one at all. I just borrowed the name from an pervious version of myself until I could come up with something better. And then I never did.

See: I don’t feel like a Buddha, part-time or otherwise. I don’t feel enlightened. I don’t feel like someone others would (or should) seek for wisdom, for guidance. For calm and peace.

Most of the time I just feel broken.

Not broken as in shattered. Not as in irreparable. Not as in sad.

Just broken as in broken down. As in beat.

And for a long time, really since I was about eight years old, I’ve thought of my life as simply a pastiche of other lives that’ve touched mine, a rough collection of experiences condensed into snapshots that together make up the stained-glass window that is my life.

Some people think that viewpoint is very sad. Whether it is or is not, it’s an idea I’ve never been able to disabuse myself of.

So I’ve given this blog a new title that feels more appropriate to me. That gives my readers a clearer map for driving this thing.

The new title is from a poem by T.S. Eliot called The Waste Land. This little excerpt that follows might be my favoritest-ever moment is all of poetry:

A heap of broken images, where the sun beats,
And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief,
And the dry stone no sound of water. Only
There is shadow under this red rock.
(Come in under the shadow of this red rock),
And I will show you something different from either
Your shadow at morning striding behind you
Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you;
I will show you fear in a handful of dust.

Wow. I still gets me every time.

Furthermore, you can now find your favorite friendly neighborhood blog at this URL:

aheapofbrokenimages dot com.

Those of you who have my blog linked from your sites will not have to update the link. The old URL will work just fine.

Thanks again for reading, today and always. I’ll try to stay with the posting-every-day thing.

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