I’ve not posted here in a while. Two years. Mostly that reflects a busy time, full of change, and uncertainty about processing it in medias res in an open space. I’m challenging myself to post again because it’s the first day of my summer session at FSU, and I’m once again teaching my course that focuses on using social media (defined broadly) spaces to support learning and performance. My students are blogging. I should blog, too.

Today my goal was to post. The purpose is to write in this space again. While there may be an audience out there (hi, if you’re there), I don’t need one. I just need to put the words on the page and hit publish. This is the cracking of a cocoon I didn’t know I’d spun, one created from task lists, exhaustion, curiosity, and ambition. It grew around me over time, fostering the space where I could learn new skills, interrogate my values and positions, and sprinkle some seeds that may or may not germinate.

By outward appearances, perhaps nothing has changed. I carry the same title and job. I teach the same classes. But things have changed. I have changed. As I write, I realize how apropos it is that I have found this moment to write this post. Not only is it the afternoon of the first day of a new term — a summer term, which I always find sunny and full of hope — but it is also the eve of facilitating the second session of a workshop I’m running on professional development for recently promoted full professors. I see a connection, an attempt in this post to nudge my online space in the direction that my own development has already occupied. This action has been an item on a task list for a while, but I have been waiting until … hmmm. What have I been waiting for? A sign? An urgency? A sense of certainty? Perhaps all three.

Today I saw the sign. I lack the urgency and sense of certainty, but nonetheless crack the cocoon and look at the broader landscape. This is not a bold shattering, but a gentle emergence. I have more to say. There is more to come.

And, reader, if you are there: If you’ve found yourself in a season of quiet growth, or are just beginning to emerge from one, I’d love to hear what that looks like for you. Or if you’ve felt the tug to seek out safe spaces for your own quiet growth, perhaps this is your sign. The first step can be small.