I am an all-or-nothing kind of guy. When I like a movie, it is the greatest movie in the world and everyone gets to hear about it. When I change my diet, I go all the way to vegan. When I blog, I post daily and begin to get chills if I miss a day.

This is a problem for a blog. Putting up 600 words every day is a burden for most readers and a pressure for any writer. For the most part, it is a pressure I find manageable and even enjoyable. The reality of writing is that, when you write, you write. When you stop writing, you do not write. Except for a few exceptions, most writers are not carried along by an irresistible flow of creative energy. Writing is created out of the daily discipline of regular writing.

When I am writing my blog, ideas for blog posts seem to appear every day, sometimes more than one. The flow of creative energy depends upon the discipline of showing up regularly.

However, constant output, eventually produces a diminishing return. In order for creative energy to be sustained, it must be nourished by inflow. A writer needs to read. A writer also needs to relax and have times when the mind is allowed to wander and to lie fallow.

All of this is a way of letting readers of “In A Spacious Place” know that starting today, “In A Spacious Place” will be taking a bit of a holiday. I hope that occasionally posts will appear in this space from Ernest Morrow. But, as he is far less obsessive compulsive than the usual IASP author, I do not anticipate that daily posting will be Ernest’s pattern for the coming month.

To suggest leaving “In A Spacious Place” alone for a month feels a little scary. I have loved seeing the interactions that take place in this space. I have been heartened to turn on my little notebook computer in the morning and discover that someone has been stimulated to comment on something I have written or to reply to someone else’s comment. There have been times when the comments in this space have been utterly beautiful. There are presently 2,010 comments on “In A Spacious Place.”

As I take a break from daily posting, I encourage you to explore the posts on “In A Spacious Place” that you may have missed. There are presently 404 posts to peruse on this blog.

If you look on the lefthand sidebar, you will see a drop down menu called “Select A Category.” You can click on this menu and find blog posts categorized according to themes. If you click on “Terrence Malick”, you will discover there are 24 posts in that category. I am sure Mr. Malick would be gratified to know that he has just equaled my output on “Holocaust”. But both are still trailing “Struggle”. What does the presence of 26 posts on “Struggle” say about this blogger?

You can also scroll down on the home page and find the titles of recent posts listed on the left. At the bottom of the list you can click on “Previous Posts” where you will find access to older posts. My first post in this space was put up on Maundy Thursday April 2, 2010.

Blogs that “work” are amazing things. Interactions can occur that would never normally have taken place. Distance is no obstacle. People on “In A Spacious Place” have communicated regularly with each other across North America. These connections are real. They offer an opportunity for people to explore their ideas and to listen respectfully to different viewpoints.

I cannot think of many endeavours that could be more worthwhile than offering a chance for conversation between people who would not normally meet. It is my hope that, as communication takes place in this space, we may feel drawn to encounter the reality of other people and move beyond putting anyone in categories or viewing them as objects.

In the deeply interconnected world in which we presently live, it is crucial that we approach one another with deep respect. We must learn to honour our differences and listen deeply and carefully to the variety of ways we each view the world.

In the fall, when I resume regular posting, I hope the conversation will continue and we will be able to find delight in the wonder of diversity that is our common humanity.