Will I Write?
#MartinBodmerFoundation_garden
Will I write?
How would I start? Why would I bother? Will I write?
It seems a little bit indulgent. I mean, I have work (as in research and presentations) to prepare, and to be clear – those things are not done and need to be done. Even if I ignore that, I could be doing other things – enjoying life (and yes, taking a nap is included there) – being “active” instead of reflective.
Will I write?
There are excuses; the reality is that I have friends (many…if not all) who know much more than I, who are trained, who know how to turn a phrase and engage rhetoric, who are just more well-read and better editors than I.
Will I write? Why? Why do people write? Do we write for the audience; for ourselves; for both somehow? In order for something to be substantive must it be long or does writing in the 21st century (that’s 2001-2100) mean it should be tweetable, textable or best captured in a picture posted on instragram? Perhaps it would be faster to try and take a selfie of me with a thoughtful (think goofy) face with fingers on a laptop or pen in hand?
If I take the time to be reflective for a moment, to consider the question, “Will I write?” I might notice some things; writing might just require a bit more reflection than is the 21st century norm. We (here I am thinking humanity when realistically I am specifically considering those with FB accounts, or at minimum with regular internet access and typically on a portable/hand-held device) are more apt to take a picture of ourselves experiencing life and to share that publically (either through our own decision or the decision of someone else who chooses to post) than to thoughtfully ponder what that moment might mean for us. And I wonder what that (lack of reflection) might be causing us to do and be(come); I wonder what it might cost us?
As I slow down to try to write there is this slight shift. It doesn’t matter that I am “typing” though I did grow up writing everything first by hand, on paper, with pencil or pens. There is still this shift. I asked, why do we write? Who is the writing for? Now, some offer that we write for others, and there is a point there – there is an industry, and “good” (let’s say substantive) writing is rewarded (ideally).
I counter this: we write first for ourselves. There is a need and we write out of our needs. And this neediness counter-intuitively makes us more community oriented, or at a minimum writing makes us less self-centric and with just a bit more perspective. These are large claims, and this is not a research paper, I am not footnoting, and I don’t know if I’ll include any quotes (we’ll see – because it might be that I finish just in time for dinner!), so maybe you’ll just walk this thought (observation) with me for a few minutes.
As we choose to write, we decide to reflect. As we reflect we slow down. We cease for a moment to be bombarded with what the whole world is doing, and instead we check-in with ourselves, with our physicality; we listen not to the sounds of the world but to how the sounds have been received within us. We become (or more precisely we are invited to become) aware of ourselves in context. Moving to reflection shifts perception. No longer are we voyeurs consuming the edited and filtered best versions of our “friends” or celebrities through social and print media. We become oriented to ourselves and consider how experiences are living in us, and how we might be able to articulate that understanding to self and to the world. As we consider those questions our perspective allows us to see differently. We shift our perspective from eyes trained in comparison to eyes engaged in wonder and curiosity. I become less intimidated by and competitive with the pictures (ie jealousy or general hating) and more interested in the stories that speak of what led them to this place, and how is that giving them life – how is that nurturing them?
Will I write?
What do I want to say? I asked, will I write? I answered in the affirmative today and for this I am grateful. Earlier today I sat on my bed, and could see orange and yellow leaves – the colors of fall. I could see and hear the rain. The sound came in waves, and I was excited when it was loud and I could see the rain in big droplets falling without even trying. I experienced such joy with the sounds and the sight that I stopped what I was doing just to notice, just to enjoy without interruption. It was this exquisite gift to be still like this, to be awake in this moment, to deeply enjoy my best seats at the natural symphony playing outside my window. It is out of this stillness that I have been able to write today. Another question I asked was why do we write? And I want to answer more. I already shared we write for ourselves. In its most authentic practice and offering writing is an act of love, of self-care, of passionate defiance and a fight for life. To write is to give birth, to allow something from deep within to be offered to the world in a new and vulnerable way. In writing as in giving birth, the writer (birther) is changed by the process (remember that shift I talked about) and life is given.
Important to remember is that a writer writes in context. I mention this here because this writer writes in context. I am not in the United States currently. My heart aches for those l love in the States. My spirit aches in pain over the polarity and politics violently bullying the US and the world right now (known as a Presidential election cycle). And I am blessed to be learning with people from all over the world who love God dearly and who help me to understand in new ways every day. And even in this idyllic place and space the violence of the world and especially the US weighs on me. That violence is heavy, and that violence always ends in death. And I am not interested in unnecessary or too early death. Recently I’ve noticed how important movement is to me. I have a need to walk, to run (jog), to dance, to stretch, and to be still. OR I should say – when I am fighting to nurture life and love I do these things, I make space and time and use resources to make these things a reality for me. Writing is another way of movement.
The opening question of course was for me, “Will I write?”, but perhaps you hear an invitation. Today I write because writing is part of my movement and movement is attached to my living. For you see, that which moves is alive – so are you alive? My prayer is that we might be actively moving – stretching our minds in thought and dream and study; stretching our bodies in activity; stretching our hearts in love; stretching our comfort in hospitality; stretching our arms in big hugs; stretching our memories in remembered graces already given; stretching our voices in song and prayer; stretching our limits in vulnerability and truth.
And so I ask…will you write?