What's With All The Movement and Noise?

"I write entirely to find out what I'm thinking, what I'm looking at, what I see and what it means." --Joan Didion

Perhaps there are people in the world who can read that sentence and not be endlessly fascinated. I am not one of them. I remain so captivated by hearing about various writers' motivations, in fact, that I actually caught myself earlier this week worrying what would happen to me if I realized one day I was no longer interested in such things. (Nope, there's no neuroticism here, honey!) As such, I was grateful this weekend to discover an organization devoted entirely to encouraging and supporting women who write blogs. If you haven't already, ladies, you must check out blogher.com.

I absolutely love the idea that women, all over the world, feel so compelled by a certain something that they actually take the time to sit down and write about it. I remain impressed and awed by the sheer number who have made this happen. Granted, one could easily make the argument that writing a blog is insignificant because the process is so accessible, practically everyone can do it. To be sure, easy access and quality assurance don't exactly form a blissful union, but that's not my concern here. Instead, here's what I see.

I see a light that lives inside, faint at first, covered in shadows. Slowly, quietly, unsure of where it wants to go, the light begins to move. Listening, watching, sensing there's a place for it outside, the beam starts to journey up. Expanding now, a little less hidden than before, the beam surprises itself and starts to buzz. Partly wishing it could turn around and go back, the light realizes it won't stop moving, faster, louder, harder to ignore. Just where is it heading, and why? As much as it wants an answer, a reason for all this sudden movement and noise, even the beam knows that's not what's important. Not right now. All it can do is try to get used to the feeling.