shakey ground
Thursday, December 11, 2008
Difficult to write because I am full of fear, afraid of hurting myself more by writing and then hating it than by not writing, which is almost equally painful. I have simply the job of watching the two gauges; when the level of pain of not writing exceeds that of writing then I will swing the lever over to the other side and begin doing it, as I am now doing. It follows this rule, however: only after beginning to write do I realize the balance must have shifted. I try to force the change but can't; that is part of the pain. I’m not in control of the respective pressures, there is not even any inevitability to trust in.
For most, I would guess, writing flows naturally from confidence, reinforced by the prospect of praise and support or of critical antagonism, which arouses the fighting spirit in those who need that motivation. In either case it is social context that fuels and determines it, whether an email or a treatise. And this context is assumed by every writer. Both support and opposition are proof that one is a real live person; it assumes there is no existence that is not mirrored. I will hazard that some besides myself long to speak only to oneself, to ground oneself in some soil more nourishing than the variable reflections of others. Prayer is the only silent speech, that is, if we never let others know our prayer or that we even have this speech. This can be a living relation to an unknown and unknowable (un-manipulable, un-representable) void which does not reach out to receive it; a letter that is never mailed or is returned to sender. Prayer then is purposeless, meaningless, non-communicative, words assembled in the void and for the void, and swallowed in the void. And yet, time well spent, for reasons that do not need defending.
This then is the only way I can understand such writing of mine, as prayer in the void, a kind of mist that cannot be aimed in any direction. It is not for you and it is not for me, that is, it does neither of us any measurable good. I can say the same basic ideas in different forms, repeat myself endlessly, and it doesn’t matter, since I’m not trying to reach some higher plateau, some original, deeper thought that will attract attention from readers, from Reason itself, or from a God. It has a purity that has not been sought, and cannot be disappointed to be found impure. ¶ 6:06 AM 1 comments
For most, I would guess, writing flows naturally from confidence, reinforced by the prospect of praise and support or of critical antagonism, which arouses the fighting spirit in those who need that motivation. In either case it is social context that fuels and determines it, whether an email or a treatise. And this context is assumed by every writer. Both support and opposition are proof that one is a real live person; it assumes there is no existence that is not mirrored. I will hazard that some besides myself long to speak only to oneself, to ground oneself in some soil more nourishing than the variable reflections of others. Prayer is the only silent speech, that is, if we never let others know our prayer or that we even have this speech. This can be a living relation to an unknown and unknowable (un-manipulable, un-representable) void which does not reach out to receive it; a letter that is never mailed or is returned to sender. Prayer then is purposeless, meaningless, non-communicative, words assembled in the void and for the void, and swallowed in the void. And yet, time well spent, for reasons that do not need defending.
This then is the only way I can understand such writing of mine, as prayer in the void, a kind of mist that cannot be aimed in any direction. It is not for you and it is not for me, that is, it does neither of us any measurable good. I can say the same basic ideas in different forms, repeat myself endlessly, and it doesn’t matter, since I’m not trying to reach some higher plateau, some original, deeper thought that will attract attention from readers, from Reason itself, or from a God. It has a purity that has not been sought, and cannot be disappointed to be found impure. ¶ 6:06 AM 1 comments
