Sometimes people write me to ask if I wonder or worry about posts that don’t receive any comments. I usually tell them no and most of the time I mean it.
Post without comments are orphans, but they are still well loved and they serve a purpose. Comments are not my form of currency and I don’t measure my success or lack thereof by them.
That doesn’t mean that I don’t want comments or that sometimes I am disappointed when my work isn’t “appreciated” because it is not true. Humans want to feel valued and I am no different than most.
But I write because I love to do this. I write because I get paid to write and this is my cyber sandbox and it is where I work to keep my skills sharp.
I just stumbled onto this particular version of Eli, Eli and I really enjoy it. It reminds me of a million different times and places, but now I am thinking of Jerusalem.
The memories of people who I once knew and in some cases still know wash over me and I am lost in time. There were days where I was a different man than I am now. Can’t say I was better or worse, but definitely different.
That guy had plans to live 10,000 miles from home and would have had a very different life. I wonder what he would have been like and who he would have become. It is part of why I wish I could live to be 1,000 years old because I could have figured that out. I could have continued to take the road less traveled and explored some other places and times.
Instead I am here and most of the time content, but I would not be true to who I am if I didn’t say I have bouts of wanderlust and a desire to hit the open road and just explore the land that lies over there, wherever that may be.
So I suppose that the words I worry most about reading or being read are those written upon my heart.
“I suppose that the words I worry most about reading or being read are those written upon my heart.” I love this.
I sometimes wonder what my life would be if I had followed some of the plans I had for myself 10 and 15 years ago.
It is easy to walk down that path and to try to figure out what could have happened. The trick is not getting stuck there or fixated on what could have been. Not always easy.
I first liked this “cyber sandbox” but then I really loved “the words I worry most about reading or being read are those written upon my heart.” And even though I don’t always comment either, I know you know what I’ve read and liked it!
I often wonder about what words jump out at others.
Wandered by from SOCS …
It occurs to me, after reading your post, that my reactions to getting (or not getting) comments on my blog may have a little too much to do with feeling personally accepted (or rejected). Something for me to think about. Thanks.
Hi Jules,
It is not unusual to feel that way. The thing is that within the blogosphere it can be difficult to view things in that manner. There are so many reasons why someone might not comment that have nothing to do with what we have or have not written.
Yes Jack – there are times when due to time constraints we really can’t leave comments at so many of the wonderful blogs we come across, even though we might want to.
But that doesn’t mean we didn’t like them or haven’t read them too. It just isn’t humanly possible to be in so many places – isn’t it? Nevertheless, I am glad I am here sometimes at least. 🙂
Thanks for sharing. 🙂
Hi Harleena,
I appreciate the comments I receive and understand sometimes it is just impossible to leave them elsewhere. There have been many times I have read a post and intended to leave a comment only to have that not happen.
I try not to let my ego get too caught up in this or to take things too seriously. Blogging should be fun.
I always appreciate when you come by because it is clear you have read the entire post. Sometimes people leave a comment that shows they didn’t read the whole thing.
There are times that I do not comment on a post and I has touched me in some way but I do try to comment on this that I connect with because I wish the same for me. Even if a small comment. I do believe that if no one comments someone is still listening. It only motivates me to do better.
I come from line of thought that says it is ok to write “great post” and not feel badly about it. Sometimes there is nothing more to say yet we still want to show the writer their work has been acknowledged.
This post really speaks to me. Posts with no comments make me sad, but then I sit back and realize that I write my words because I want them to come to life. I don’t write for rote and trite comments. I’d rather have one heartfelt one than a million that don’t mean a thing. Glad you joined us, Jack!
“Post without comments are orphans, but they are still well loved and they serve a purpose.” I love this. And that is a very haunting cover of Eli — but very beautiful. Sometimes we all feel like those posts without comments. We put ourselves out there and find ourselves longing for affirmation or connection.
Hi Jamie,
A friend tipped me off to that cover and I have listened to it dozens of times. It taps into something deep inside. There are such stories wrapped up in this…
Blogging is about connection or so I think. I write throughout the day because I love to write and the words speak to me, but the relationships and connections that come with this make it all more meaningful.
Beautiful. Thank you for sharing your words and your heart.
Hi Glenda,
Thank you. What is the point of a personal blog if we don’t share pieces of ourselves.
Some posts lend themselves to comments and some don’t. Regardless of whether people comment on a post, it can touch lives.
This post touched me. Thank you for writing it.
Hi Roland,
I always find it interesting to see which posts generate the most comments and which do not. Sometimes there is no rhyme or reason to it, or at least none that I can see. It intrigues me.
Glad you enjoyed this. Thank you for coming by.
Remember, just because no one commented doesn’t mean no one read the words!
Hi D.A.,
The majority of blog visitors are lurkers so you really never know who is reading. During the moments in which the silence bothers me I try to remind myself of this.