My writing portfolio, from childhood to adulthood, is thick with rich, excited beginnings, with dense character sketches, and scraps of paper scratched over with snippets of unfinished dialogue, overheard one-liners, last thoughts, first lines, and the middlings of many, many stories.
Endings are scarce. Completed works are a rarity, a collector’s item.
Seldom have I ever been able, in life or on the page, to successfully tie together the finales of anything: relationships, friendships, jobs, eras, romances, reasonings. Rather, my modus operandi, however untidy, is to let things erode with time, on their own, naturally. Let people drift, by and by, until they’re invisible, gone. Continue working and reworking and refining and re-editing. Move with the change, clumsily even, rather than push against it. Allow—enable?—a ragged, jagged series of last tears instead of the cold, clean break.
I am trying, at 32, to pick up the ax and use it, with good aim.
Although I started out attempting anonymity here, at some point the blogger-persona and the real-me-persona melded, molded, and Hannah, Just Breathe and I, together, became hopeful, heartfelt travelers through yoga practicing, moving, dating, aging, settling, dismantling, and rebuilding. We were honest, nervous, never untrue. We were passionate, opinionated, sad, joyous, struggling, succeeding, wrong, right, and wholly our own.
I asked nothing and yet received reprieve, encouragement, friendship, wisdom, critique, love, inspiration, and good cheer.
But now, five long, eventful years have passed, with me still keying away at this same blog. The reasons for her beginnings no longer match the blogger, writer, yogi, or woman I am now. She, this space, feels old, tired, stretched too thin, threadbare. My readership has come and gone, again and again; the blogosphere has evolved; my writing interests have expanded—and here this blog remains, dusty, heavy with the past, burdened down by a rusting archive stuffed with nearly 700 posts.
Meanwhile, I have other writing projects I want to begin, a new blog I am launching (!!), a new phase of my life to write and share and understand.
Quite plainly, our time is up.
Hannah, Just Breathe: you have served me well.
I’m taking the ax to several other things in my life these days. But I am choosing not to think of this particular ending as a trip to the guillotine.
Rather, I want to close this blog as I began it:
Gently, quietly, hopefully, an eye on the possibilities ahead, with a lot of breath, a lot of heart, a leap of courage, and full faith that letting go has so much less to do with what you’re losing and has everything to do with all, all, that’s worth gaining.
p.s. This voice? These lyrics? The perfect parting song.
p.p.s. E-mail me at hannahjustbreathe at gmail dot com if you want to stay in touch!