“I don’t know.”
This is my latest favorite phrase. It carries all of the humility and wisdom, or ignorance and shame, one which I ascribe to varying states of mind and emotion. I have been through another drought of writing, and have been hearing that small voice that is disappointed when I experience something profound without taking the time to reflect upon it in the way that works best for me. So here I am, writing for the sake of writing, without knowing where I am going with the process.
It takes time to gain life experience; so much so that I tend to go for long periods without writing. Sooner or later though, I realize that I need to start exploring myself through written word again, lest I explode from the sheer amount of input that I have garnered. Writing is both a tool for exploring, re-defining, searching and analyzing my life as well as a tool for sharing myself with others. I can often write what I cannot readily say, as my mind tends to race at a million mph, and speech is a painfully slow way to express what I am thinking. When speaking, I often bumble what I mean to say, while writing offers visual cues if I lose a train of thought as well as a faster modality with which to release my thoughts. This does not offer me any advantage over those who can speak eloquently or who are deep, slow thinkers. I secretly admire such people… I only wish that I could catch a thought long enough to share it without having the need for a pen and paper or a computer/typewriter. Hence, I find poetry to be a wonderful medium to string together and connect thought processes when I am searching my soul for answers.
I also write to connect with others. There are so many ways to look at the diversity around us and separate ourselves from others based on our differences. I don’t write to point out those differences, but rather, to reach out to those that have had similar experiences or to educate those who have not. I end up leaving readings as though I’ve just had a very public conversation with myself and shy away from doing more for a time.
It can be lonely when one shares so much of themselves with the world, because that is how one connects and makes sense of it all, but even in the midst of such loneliness, one is not a victim. I have found that state which I call loneliness is the most beautiful place. It is where I meet myself in the often dualistic totality of my being. It is where I can see the sacred in the profane and the absurd in that which I hold most dear. It is where I can meet the face of Spirit expressing itself in and through me, and see glimpses of it in others. It is where I can examine my latest foibles and successes and weigh them against the truth that is woven throughout the cultures and religions of the world and the terrific beauty and intensity of nature. It is that place which a pen and paper can alter the course of my life, and bring a sense of knowing that which is intangible. It is from that place, which I wish to connect with myself and with you, and discover what it is that we don’t know.