Who I Never Knew

I came upon a blog today that consists entirely of the following single post:

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Saturday, July 15, 2006

I had a blog about submission and spanking

with about 60 or so posts and lots of lovely comments from nice people.

I deleted it and then I felt bad, but deleting it was symbolic I suppose.

Talking here about my hopes and dreams was just leaving me frustrated. No point on dwelling on something you can never have.

So I've decided I have to try and move on. To try and bury my hopes and dreams. To try and live as that grey creature in that grey world from before I let myself dream. I don't see that I have any choice.

I just wanted to thank the nice people who offered me their kindness and friendship. I do appreciate it more than you know.

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It's at times like this that I realize that this massive soup of information, emotion, experience, intellect, opinion, whining, nastiness, joy, hope, love, and rampant PMS that is the BlogVerse includes not only the known (those we've come to "know" in some sense through their words here), the unknown (those we don't know yet), but also the unknowable -- those we will never know, not because they didn't give us the chance, but because they winked out, a little star in the sky one night, suddenly gone the next.

Now this isn't necessarily an earth-shattering insight, to be sure . . . but it stays with Me. In a real sense I "miss" what I've never had to the chance to know (or at least the chance to figure out if I wanted to know). Silly, perhaps, but there you have it.

As for the actual "blog" itself, I've talked before about "What's Left Behind," and how I don't think it's raelly possible to, as she (I'm guessing the author is female) put it, to "live as that grey creature in that grey world from before I let myself dream." There's no putting the toothpaste back into the tube. Perhaps, for her, putting it all aside is a necessary step, something that has to happen right now . . . I personally choose to believe that that's the case.

And, in the spirit of "lessons are everywhere," I stop and realize that even the words that almost no one reads have an impact, that they matter, in some way . . . we are often caught up in a quest to understand how they matter, when the wisest course, to Me, seems to be to work at being content with the knowledge that they do matter, and to not need constant tangible evidence of such to hold onto that knowledge. Not an easy task . . .

Whoever you are, whoever you were, might have been . . . what you will be is really all that matters now. Perhaps next time I will have the chance to know you.


"I didnt mean to take up all your sweet time
I'll give it right back to ya one of these days
I said I didnt mean to take up all your sweet time
I'll give it right back one of these days
If I dont meet you no more in this world then
Ill meet ya in the next one
And dont be late
Dont be late . . . "

--Jimi Hendrix, "Voodoo Child"