I've discovered that my seeming inability to maintain a continuous and unflagging stream of posts, thought, musings, pronouncements, considerations, questions and indignant outrage has a name - 'blog fade'. And I am not alone. A number of things have coalesced over the last few weeks to reawaken an almost long-lost love of writing; the fact that my general language, grammer and elocution, spoken and written, has degenerated way beyond that which is acceptable; that my ability to write or re-write in business parlance has actually vastly improved as to imply my ability to obfuscate exceeds my ability to convey meaning of a direct and emotive nature; the discovery of two(still used) pieces I wrote about the Himalayas for Stanfords Map and Travel bookshop (here) and @wood's thoughtful and, dare I say, honest appraisal of blogging, life and twitter (here); and yes, twitter.
To put it simply, I have only just realised what it is that I have lost, and the fact that I had lost it had somehow gone unnoticed until it was almost too late (okay, the last bit was theatrical license).
I had forgotten how to muse, how to think and communicate. I had forgotten that, amongst the many, many things I love doing, that this was first and foremost; I love writing. I love forming, drafting, honing, spinning, shaping, delving and crafting the written word. I love the sense of something created, born of my own imagination, insight and, in some cases, hard work.
I wonder how many of us have forgotten or mislaid that one true thing we love doing, burying it beneath an accretion of dashed hopes, apathy and 'more important' things. I'm not doing it again, I enjoy it too much.