Writing is what I do. It is nestled among other things I do that come out of me so naturally that I don't even notice most of the time. So this large black mess that was my life for a time seems to want to come out of me in writing. Problem is - I get stuck. Almost as soon as the story is out of the chute, I bump up against this huge, soft, barrier. I know a lot about what's on the other side, and I suspect that the barrier is a symbol of my inability to sit down and give it all a good sort, analysis, or examination. It will burn to touch it, it will sting to be near it, it will choke my lungs and singe my stomach. It will sting my eyes and make my muscles spasm. It will suck light from the space it occupies, and it will not be wholly reconciled.
I have several paragraphs written. It's not about the quality or the availability of material. I don't really have words to describe what stops me. It might be like wanting to override a reflex and simply not being able to.
So do I break down the barrier? Or do I contemplate it and make a few discoveries that will help me along when it comes down, if it ever does?
I have several paragraphs written. It's not about the quality or the availability of material. I don't really have words to describe what stops me. It might be like wanting to override a reflex and simply not being able to.
So do I break down the barrier? Or do I contemplate it and make a few discoveries that will help me along when it comes down, if it ever does?
so good to read you!
ReplyDeletehey, what if that barrier is something to protect you, or others? not necessarily something to be overcome or moved or conquered?
In answer to your two questions in the last paragraph, based on what i have understood about your practices, the answers would be "no" and "yes". ( probably asked rhetorically, but i can't help myself! )
those little fuckers - are they the ones saying how badly it will hurt, singe and choke? are they the ones telling you that life had been a large black mess? sounds like they're sharpening their teeth...
observe. and let them pass on by. i have never forgotten that advice. it's helped me a lot.
It is at least as good to have you respond!
ReplyDeleteExactly - what if? So I don't push too hard, but I feel I must at least keep looking.
The little fuckers used to say those things. I stepped on or chased away most of those. Now they say stuff like 'you don't like your job and you don't know what to do about it', and 'you have more important things to do than what you like' and 'would you be any happier if you change jobs again?' and 'what if something happens to Dayle, where will you be then?'. But the really mean ones taunt me about being far away from my kids. They niggle at me about things I know better, things I've left behind and things I still hold close. But none of them have a thing to say about how I look - because I feel very beautiful. I might feel like I'm out on a limb in many ways, but I'm cute!!
Observe, and let them pass on by. Thanks for the reminder you dear one.