It has been while.
I’ve kept my journal through the last years, so much to catch up, so much to report, so much to share with other and yet somehow, I slowly stopped, slowly moved more and more of my digital self into those useless walled gardens, where years of life snippets seem to have been sucked into an eternal loss.
Last week I caught up with some of my old friends; some long due conversations, which led inevitably to a known path. Conversations on how we connect, discussion on the value of sharing, a talk on the need to have more people blogging, ramblings on the global demand for better stories, positive stories, human stories, fewer edited stories.
It is a sign of this new normal, this forced reality check, the big reset imposed to all of us in this never-ending quarantine. I believe we all deeply needed a stop, a time to breath in reality. Time to hear ourselves, to listen to ourselves, to spend time with ourselves.
It wasn’t there as I had this round of conversations, but over the course of different calls, it became clearer, stronger, unavoidable. In truth it arrived unannounced, I haven’t felt the need before, but like all changes, they moved in slowly. Reconnecting with these friends ended up being more than a regular call; it was in many ways the closure of a phase and the beginning of another.
I write these lines with a sense of reconnection, a sense of continuing and reconnecting with an online history that started in ’94 when I first wrote online.
In a sentence, this post represents the reconnection of me with this very open and personal online path. Taking my online persona through a similar reset I have cultivated in the last couple of weeks, in a previous couple of years.
So here I am, with a fresh reset.