I love the myth of the Phoenix. I have ever since I heard about the bird for the first time as a self-proclaimed pyromaniac adolescent. As I’ve grown in character and stature, my love for this bird and the legend that surrounds it has matured as well. To sum my understanding of it up in a sentence, a Phoenix is an emblazoned bird with a beautiful song that is reborn every thousand years or so from it’s own ashes.
There’re some obvious implications: renewal, immortality, resurrection, new life, etc. I think mythologists, writers, philosophers, and sermonizers have beaten all of these allegories to death. So I really won’t bother with explaining the allegory, I’ll just let you know it’s happening: I’m resurrecting my blog.
Now, I know the statement above will cause no one to run off, buy fireworks, and light them off in celebration. But this is a pretty big deal for me, it scares me. There’re a few reasons for my fear and hesitation starting to blog again. First, I started this particular blog over 2 years ago and really haven’t done much with it. I’m afraid the same thing will happen again: a few good posts written months apart only to be abandoned and forgot about. Secondly, the name sets up a lot of expectation in my own mind. I started a hungerforchange blog on xanga.com 3 years ago while living for a month on $30 worth of food. It was an inspired time when I lived with a purpose, noticed things, and wrote about them. I tried thinking up some new trendy blog name that I could be proud of and I couldn’t. So, I'm simply resigning myself to add to this one: resurrecting it hoping it will blow on the burning coals of my soul and ignite something. Lastly, I’m truly afraid to produce. It’s a strange fear but one nestled in my own self-image of being an appreciator of the finer things of life: music, art, literature, coffee, cigars, etc. The moment I produce something, anything I’m opening myself up for criticism. There’s extra fear because what I write is simply an extension of who I am, how I see the world, and what I think of it all; for someone to criticize something I wrote would be to critique what makes me who I am.
I AM forging ahead despite all of that. I’m doing so because there is a chance for great beauty, the kind that can only emerge of the ashes of an old life, from scar tissue, from memories that put a knot in your guts and bring tears to your eyes. I’m not sharing the lessons my life is teaching me because they are unique nor because they’re universal. I’m sharing them to produce, to contribute something to the world that surrounds me. I’m forcing myself to care enough about something that I’ve written to edit and revise it then put it on display. I hope the process of writing and revising will be introspective and enlightening. I hope to find something within the ashes of life that’s been there all along but only needed a little coaxing to ignite and shine like crimson.
Arise oh Phoenix from your ashes, burst into beautiful flame.