A year of fun and toil on Steem

(And no, I haven’t turned into a marine mammal or anything - I’m quite happy being a penguin on this side of the tropical island.)

I just turned a year older on Steemit. I could've waited a month to write this and celebrated leaving my twenties behind at the same time, but that would stray from the true spirit of this post, which is about my journey so far. And speaking of journeys, here’s a wonderful poem - and these are probably the only lines I’ve ever made an effort to memorise:

Afoot and light-hearted I take to the open road,
Healthy, free, the world before me,
The long brown path before me leading wherever I choose.

Henceforth I ask not good-fortune, I myself am good-fortune,
Henceforth I whimper no more, postpone no more, need nothing,
Done with indoor complaints, libraries, querulous criticisms,
Strong and content I travel the open road.

The earth, that is sufficient,
I do not want the constellations any nearer,
I know they are very well where they are,
I know they suffice for those who belong to them.

I’ve always loved these lines from Whitman. They capture not just the beginning of a journey, but that moment when one ends and another begins - this time, you’re wiser and more prepared to take it on. I think that sentiment kind of reflects where I am right now.

So, what do I have to say about a year of fun and toil?

Let me start by saying this frankly: Steemit will always be special to me, despite the times I’ve hated it and the occasional mean things I’ve written about it. I’ve never regretted those posts, just as I’ve never regretted my old ones that were more of an emotional dump - they’re all part of my unique experience here and make the whole thing feel more balanced.

And Steemit hasn't only witnessed my spiraling changes but has also catalyzed them - my opinions, scattered reflections, absurdly poetic moments that led nowhere, and of course, my contradictions. I remember once declaring I'd stick to one form of writing, but eventually found myself experimenting with others anyway. Most people would probably see that as perfectly normal, but to me, it still feels like a transgression I haven't quite repented for. Then again, people evolve, don’t they?

In the short time I’ve been a tenant here, I’ve seen both the highs and the lows - from the wild, crazy-fun days to the quieter times when my good friends, my contemporaries, started leaving the platform. It hit a real low point for me too; I even thought about leaving myself. But thanks to a few awesome Steemians who kept the place alive, and in doing so, kept me here. (If you wish to know who they are, just take a peek at the people I follow.)

Having waded through all that, I think I’ve learned to be still - a bit like learning to enjoy tea on my own. The cycle continues, but isn’t that always the nature of things? Everything ebbs and flows. It’s true in the outside world, and no less true here. So I’m no longer bothered by it.

Sometimes it’s hard to gain perspective on our time while we’re living it; more often than not, it’s only when we look back that things begin to make sense.

Looking back with a year's experience and a clearer sense of where I'm headed, if I could give one piece of advice to my past self, it would be this: take the time to build and refine your blog. There’s nothing wrong with posting in communities - in fact, it’s necessary. But first, build your own house. It doesn’t need to be fancy; a hut will do. Let it be your anchor. When everything else fades, you’ll have something that is yours to return to. Being everywhere is like being nowhere.

I only realised this later, which is why in recent months I’ve focused on posting on my own blog. I think I’ve managed to build a small cabin so far. Sometimes a visitor drops by, sometimes none at all - which is perfectly fine for an introvert.

I’m not an isolationist; I genuinely enjoy engaging with like-minded people. That’s where communities come into play: they bring diverse perspectives together in one place. It’s how both the community and the individual thrive. Each is essential to the other; neither is complete alone.

My philosophy is simple: choose a community that fits your style, and once you do, focus on contributing value. That can take many forms - sharing quality content, supporting others, delegating, or setting beneficiaries. The community helps you grow, and when you finally reap your harvest, you give back. That way, both you and the community continue to flourish.

I’d like to point out that communities have real influence - and the power to address the behavioural issues of users who constantly let AI think and create for them. Why do users keep doing that? Because they can’t stand the pain of growth. They can’t bear the embarrassment of trying something new and being bad at it. They don’t have the patience for the messy process of trying, failing, and trying again.

AI and bots aren’t the real problem, are they? The problem is our aversion to face the discomfort that growth demands.

I get that many are discouraged and frustrated by this. Some are simply tired of dealing with it all and want out. Or maybe the good times aren’t there anymore - things feel draining, the spark won’t return, and even a good cup of hot tea no longer helps.

But even in times like this, we need not despair. There’s joy in stopping - and often for good reason. We stop because it feels like the right time. We stop, step away and return more refined. We stop because we recognise we’re not the best fit for something, and it’s time to let others take the stage. And so on. You see, it’s better to stop than to burn. And if the time ever decides it for me, I won’t hesitate to do the same.

I know I started off with a hint of optimism about this new adventure - think Bilbo Baggins after he finally let go of the Ring - but now it feels like the journey is ending before it even began. Not gonna lie, I’m tired too. We all are. But I can bank on this: no one stays in one feeling forever.

So that’s about it - my year of fun, toil, and a few lessons learned along the way. I bet you feel more tired reading this than I did living it. Believe me, that’s not my intention; I just couldn’t think of a better way to close this.