It was just a few short days post 9/11 and an overly exuberant college-age girl found herself standing on her chair in freshman orientation engaging in a yelling match with a pacifist. She, clearly, was not. (a pacifist). I still share many of the same opinions that young woman had but my forms of expression have matured (i hope) since then.

Of course,there are a number of things that have changed since then and I don’t see the world in quite the same way. For one thing, I don’t see in black and white anymore. There’s a whole lot of color thrown in the mix (some call it gray). Now I’ll be the first to admit that living in black and white felt a lot simpler than where I am today. I could be so sure. So confident. So willing to pick a fight. I like to believe that it takes some amount of courage to admit that I’m not so sure anymore. But I know that there are others who take this uncertainty and worry over it. Maybe I don’t know what is right. Maybe I’ve lost my way. Perhaps….(again with the not-so-sure thing).

I have been fairly silent for a long time on this blog about my opinions. Somewhere over the last six or seven years I went from being overly verbose in my sharing to almost silent. Mostly I have been thinking. Inside. Quietly. And observing. I have done some growing, some changing, some maturing, some staying-the-same. But I think the time to break the silence has come. I miss my writing. I miss free expression on the page, using words and sculpting thoughts out of verbs and nouns. As much as I love face-to-face chats (and trust me I am up for a coffee or tea date any day) there’s something magical, thrilling and downright scary about the written word. It’s so permanent. Orality has a history of eventually being lost. What is spoken into the space between two or more people is eventually gathered up and translated to mean something a little different and then eventually dissipates like the mist that rises off the Oregon coast on a summer morning and vanishes by lunch. I like that about conversation. It doesn’t have to last forever. Words on a page, however, stick around. In the age of the internet they have a permanence that terrifies me. They come back and haunt you. It seems far easier and much less risky to write/say nothing at all.

My last post on pregnancy and reading generated some great dialogue…and lets be honest at least one or two remarks that made me shake my head in disagreement. But that’s why I posted it. To share an opinion and get feedback. Then it turns out that a seemingly innocent Facebook post about eating sushi also brought out a whole lot of comments. Intentionally or unintentionally, sharing personal opinions in a public space invites response. Why else would any one put something out there on the web? Why not just keep it to yourself if you’re not prepared for someone to say something?

So all this rambling to say, you’ll probably be hearing from me a little more frequently. And it won’t just be nice pictures of family outings or video footage of the last futball match. I am not the same girl who practically begged to put on the boxing gloves and get into the opinion-flinging boxing ring that I was at 18…and yes, somehow I am. And to continue in the spirit of honesty, I know that I risk getting my feelings a little bruised. Maybe ruffling the feathers of friends and strangers alike and heaven-forbid making an enemy or two. That’s ok. I am not saying I am fully prepared for that but I do intend to share with sincerity, with heart and with a desire and openness to listen thoughtfully to the responses. Pull up a chair. (I’d say “hit me with your best shot” but I am not that confrontational anymore). Share your own story. Engage. Let the space we’ve been provided with here on the great big world wide web be a space to dialogue.

I do have one request. Lets play nicely with each other ok? (to put it bluntly, no poo-flinging allowed).