For a long time, I was focused on looking for clues in the data of my websites and interpreting meaning from what I’ve observed. I make a conscious effort not to do that anymore.

That isn’t to say I don’t look and pay attention to my traffic, I do. But I’m trying to place some emotional distance between the blips and me. Sometimes the signals seem to be communicating to me.

But let’s suppose they are. All I know is that an effort is being made to communicate. What is the actual message being sent? And who is sending it? And even if I know the person sending it, how could I know the intent of it.

So much that we see and hear is subject to our projections, the meaning we hope to take away from our interactions. That’s true of regular, direct communications. This form of signaling — if it exists at all — is on the level of commentary on my own writing.

In essence, I write my own codes every day and see them reflected back at me in different ways. I doubt that anyone is hoping or expecting me to ever crack that code — or at least I hope so, because it should be clear by now that I don’t operate on that precise a wavelength.

All I can do is take my writing where my intuition wants to go, to let it breathe on its own, and either find an audience or not.

I spent time this month with some people I’ve known for 45 years or so. It was interesting to see that mirror reflected back at me, because every time I reconnect with these people, I see the small ways they’ve changed, but mostly notice how I have.

It’s been three years since we last met. In that time, I’ve become a far more content person. I don’t have the same needs that I used to have. I also don’t worry so much about what other people think of me. I don’t exist for their approval.

I have to believe that this process, this daily ritual of writing, watching, interpreting — signaling into the void without response, getting up and doing it again, every day — this is the process that’s changed me the most.

I’ve stared directly into my inner life, noticed my yearnings and disappointments, and made peace with them. I can keep noticing and examining as long as it means something to me.

I wrote, somewhat ironically, earlier in the week about forces beyond me that push my examinations in certain directions. Quite honestly, I don’t see myself as being important enough for any natural or supernatural force to waste time directing me.

But I also think that we are our habits and our structures. This ritual of language is an important part of who I am, even if I never talk about it to anyone. If someone is out there paying attention to it, I hope you’re getting something out of the experience as well, even though I fully expect to never find out exactly what that is.