Leaving home (in a sense)
Oikos mou has been a substantial focus and commitment of my life energy for three years. Here I have organized my thoughts and recorded the things of my life without regard to their triviality or tremendousness, and here I have chronicled ideas and information that seemed important at the time, some of which still does. Oikos mou has been a means of fellowship and of keeping in touch with friends. But there has been a downside to this. Because many of my readers know who I am, and because I know who some of my readers are, inevitably, a tendency to adjust my work to suit my readers, and a constraining sense of accountability, impinge in a manner that may sometimes thwart candor. I have determined that I need a retreat, a place to which my rebel self can run away and take a new name and not be known. I may or may not return to this venue and familiar format.
Oikos mou will always be here, until the end of WordPress time. My blog has its own life, with more than 700 posts people continue to find in their searches. I will continue to update my reading list and such things that I find useful to record here. Oikos mou is an established estate garden, and I will continue to tend it, and to moderate and post comments.
I have launched a retreat, a new niche in the blogosphere. For now, I am not going to supply the link to anyone except my husband, and he would be quite formidable under torture. My new blog will be found by those who find it, and it contains no information identifying its author or any points of personal nexus. I like the idea for now of secreting myself in plain sight, my chronicles unhindered by thoughts of how they might affect or reflect upon, for instance, my church, or other ties. For the time being, I anticipate directing my writing efforts to the new retreat.
Every writer has a secret world open only to a very few, and I thank Sir Walter Scott not only for affirming this for me, but for soothing my ailing conscience by condoning this as a necessary virtue. Public writing is one thing, but identifying publicly with one’s writing may be another thing entirely, if accountability lurks as a weed in one’s secret garden. And so, I have decided to append myself, however unworthy in comparison to the great cloud of predecessors that include Scott himself, to the fine and freeing tradition of authorial anonymity.