Let’s talk about writing, ageing, and well-being, and how they interact. Please join me: I learn so much from other bloggers.
- I’m fascinated by the ways we use writing to solve problems and improve our health and happiness. Blogging is a case in point.
- I think about my own advancing age, fear it, relish it, and brace myself for the years ahead. You may be doing this too.
My web profile: trying to focus here
Writer. Teacher. Older. The last one sprang on me very suddenly. I just didn’t see it coming. That seems crazy… but it’s only human.
In the early days on the web, every new project or group or role demanded that I set up another website, write another book, open another social media account, until my brain was a hundred open tabs flapping in the wind.
Divarication as a professional strategy
Do you know about New Zealand’s marvellous divaricating shrubs? Instead of growing as a trunk and branches and sub-branches and twigs, they grow by a process of endless splitting. There’s no hierarchy, just a mass of twiglets crocheting themselves together into a dense anarchic ball. The evolutionary justification was that this growth pattern prevented bushes from being eaten by moa and other ground-dwelling birds.
That’s the way I have lived my professional life. There are benefits: I’ve had fun, achieved a lot, and never been pecked by a moa. For years this online proliferation has been an automatic response, a persistent habit. But lately, the ramifications were doing my head in.
Stop cluttering up cyberspace!
In 2016 I was on the verge of creating yet another website just to promote and talk about the short video courses that I intended to make. Epiphany! A little voice said, “Stop! Surely your WordPress site can accommodate this. Just make it work.”
The dilettante muehlenbeckia bush close up appears to be in a dither of indecision… but stand back and you’ll see it holistically as a strong structure with a striking, colourful texture. Fortunately at this stage of life I’m finding connections, connections, connections everywhere I look. I’ll never become a Norfolk pine, but as a mature muehlenbeckia astonii I can prune myself ruthlessly.
Hence this website, which yearns (in vain) to be my only website.