There’s ham and eggs, brownies and milk, winter and summer, and POSTS AND COMMENTS. The one makes the other go, the other pulls the one along. I’m sure I have the most thoughtful, interesting readers anywhere. Your lively comments can enlarge my small offerings to something new and wonderful — even to me.
I no longer write to hear myself think. I’ve been writing all my long life and I mostly know what I think already. I write to hear what OTHERS think. What YOU think. It’s new to me — fresh and refreshing and unpredictable.
My own image is a post as a springboard over a deep body of water — Readers walk out on the springboard, and some of them dive in — And then there’s a whole bunch of people frolicking in the water or seriously swimming — in a CONVERSATION, and that’s my highest form of praise.
Why do I think it’s necessary to post this? Well, to say thanks, for one thing. But mostly because I’ve discovered that lots of people aren’t even aware of comments, let alone as their often being a vital part of the post. There they are, stuck away at the bottom in small print in a parenthesis (xx Comments), and so what?
So what, Reason one: I reply to every single comment, which means at minimum, a short dialogue’s going on.
Reason two: Other people comment and I reply, and you’re overhearing a dialogue.
Reason three: Read two comments, and you’re eavesdropping on a conversation.
Reason four: If something strikes you, you can dive in and then you’re right there mixing it up in the pool, an active part of the conversation.
Exhibit B: Weekly Photo Challenge, BROKEN 2, on my second blog A View From the Woods. The discussion is just opening up, and already pessimistic views are shifting from BROKEN to BEGINNING to BELOVED — Now how is that happening? And what do you think about brokenness anyway?
If you don’t normally pay attention to comments on blog posts, remember that you’re only getting the part and not the whole, and check ’em out when the subject interests you. As a lure, here are two images prompted by that current discussion of BROKEN. They’re of mosaic benches (adorned with broken shards of ceramic, right?) in Barcelona’s Parc Guell, designed by the eccentric and colorful Antonin Gaudí:
There are the benches as art objects; and in use:
Come on and dive in. The water’s fine!
(Sorry I couldn’t find a larger image: I was in Barcelona before my computer, my camera, my blogs — 😦