A little pseudo-stream-of-consciousness experiment. Hard to say where this is going to take me. i feel the need to write but i have nothing to say, in truth. i can’t level any profound wisdom, i have no poignant quips or astute observations about encounters from the day or lessons learned or people met or any of that.
And yet i still feel the need.
Seeing the emergence of a self-referential loop here. Or at the very least a mobius strip of paradox. Hofstadter would be proud. Writing is a discipline, that takes time and energy and focus to hone. Thus one must continue to practice it even when the results or the inspirations are simply not coming. In my case, writing is an attempt to hone that craft into something that is edifying to my brethren and the church and is self-emptying. So when i am writing, as now, aimlessly and without specific purpose or precise direction, though on the one hand it is for the purpose of developing the craft, on the other hand i am at that very moment developing the craft in an entirely self-indulgent fashion, and therefore i am actually getting further away from where i want to be, even if skill is increasing. Thus in order to get closer to where i want to be, you might think i would have to practice even more, but as i just demonstrated working harder only digs the hole deeper. However, it is equally obvious that i cannot give up either, as that accomplishes nothing and no one benefits from that.
Some kind of quicksand i’m in here.
Usually quicksand requires someone to come lift you out. The harder you struggle the more you begin to sink. So i cannot stop, but i cannot continue either. (Did i accidentally just rediscover Step 1?) i guess i stumbled upon some semblance of a point here, and hardly intentionally, a fortunate man who happens to wander out of the desert into an oasis.
Or a man led there, despite his efforts to the contrary.
Perhaps i’m not supposed to know where my writing will end up when i start. In fact, there are very few times when where we are going is relevant at all. i daresay we will discover that in due time, and in my experience, i rarely regret not knowing where i was going when i get there. What i find myself regretting are the things and people i missed along the way because i couldn’t stop looking ahead.
So Lord, i am here now. Show me.
Consider the lilies, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin, yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. – Luke 12 : 27