Ironic?

Is it ironic that I almost didn't do my 20 minutes of writing today because I spent most of the day getting ready to go to a writing retreat with friends?  There were so many last minute things I had to complete: packing my clothes, packing the books I wanted with me, packing cooking supplies, getting church bulletins emailed to the person who prints them, sending emails related to Brick Road Poetry Press operations, other disciplines like Bible study, devotional reading, prayer time, checking in on people by phone, making sure I had directions to our retreat site, and the list goes on. Then when at dusk I arrived at the retreat house, I had to unload my car, prep my dinner, and put on the TV to watch while I ate.  The TV almost allured me into a night of turning off my creative mind and surrendering to the Disney+ creative team behind WandaVision. It sucked me in for three entire episodes. But here is where disciple and a promise to myself kicked in. I have committed to 20 minutes of writing a day. If I can't do it at our writing retreat house, I'm doomed. So I turned off the screen and opened my notebook and handwrote a series of lines, bouncing off the deeply held truth that "in love someone always gets hurt." I tried to restate this idea in as many different and unique ways as I could think of. Again it feels good to keep my commitment and be able to say, I have written. 

Why Do I Need a Life of Letters?

With no self-deception, I can say I’m fairly good at so many life skills. I can cook well. When I clean the house, I do it full-out, moving items off the floor and shifting furniture when I’m vacuuming. I’ve even been known to do my own laundry and have repaired a few home appliances. While these are valuable abilities, none of these have ever given me a feeling of lasting satisfaction. Most of what this life requires is necessary but not edifying, at least not for me. It's not enough.

What does give me a sense of accomplishment and the feeling I am using my life in a worthwhile fashion is writing, more specifically “having written.” There’s something about the process of putting together words to express something that quiets my feeling of inadequacy. Maybe I can say writing helps me to feel as if I’m not wasting the precious time of my life. I am doing something constructive and creative. I am creating something that did not previously exist. When the creative juices are flowing and I perceive that I’m writing something special and surprising, it is the best feeling ever. It’s like what I imagine it would be like to have superpower. Writing well is when I feel most God-like, in the sense I am creating new life and new worlds from words.

As well as I know myself I can say, it’s not so much producing writing that impacts others and the world so much as it is the active practice and discipline of scribbling in my notebook. Once I did dream of producing popular books, of going into a random bookstore and seeing my name on the spine of my latest work. But for my life now, the goal is quieter, simpler, more for my sense of meaning and purpose rather than the consumption of others. I simply feel good when I have written. I feel great when I write regularly. And, when the opposite happens, when I allow writing to be squeezed out by the business of other pursuits, that’s when I feel like a failure. To look back on a month, a season, a year or more without writing is to want to lay down and die. For vitality and a sense of purpose in my life, I need writing.

Routine Writing

The desire to write well, the desire to write extraordinarily well can hinder the likelihood of any writing at all. Most writing is going to be mundane, clichéd, substandard, and uninspired. I know that. Consciously I accept that. But when it comes to having the motivation and discipline to write, I stall, avoid, and leave it undone. This is why I need to build the discipline of 20-minute writing sessions, yet again. 20 minutes is possible in almost any circumstance. And I go into it with no expectations except to have the bragging rights that I have written. 

Today's session felt uninspired. I wrote from an artistically done photo of a domestic scene. As you would expect the subject of the writing was a domestic scene about making coffee and a mother cuddling with her son. There was some life in the mother's stream-of-consciousness, but it did not excite me. The words were not fresh or inspired. But it was writing. I was meditating on what that life would be like. Reaching into that environment with my imagination. It was something. 

The downside of 20 minutes is that it's not enough writing time for experiments with saying things in different ways, revising, and rethinking the way I'm putting together words. I will need more time to develop more style and inventiveness again. I need to be thinking ahead to what the goal would be after 20 minutes becomes habit. Thankfully I have a Poetry Retreat coming up next week with poet friends. There I will be able to sink more deeply into the process for a weekend. 

Imaginative Empathy

I'm currently reading a sci-fi book entitled The Mountain in the Sea which deals with Artificial Intelligence and efforts to communicate with a non-human lifeform. One of the major themes is about longing for connection and the difficulties of communication. The characters have gotten me thinking about my own level of empathy for others, a crucial ingredient for connection and communication. In the novel there's a guy who has been kidnapped and enslaved. As he is forced to work with other slaves, he realizes how he has never cared too much about other people. He's only cared about himself. In the midst of his slavery, he starts to listen and actually pay attention to his fellow slaves, where they came from, what they are thinking, and how they are feeling. 

All this has stimulated the observation that I too need to grow in that area. Wouldn't it be wonderful if I imaginatively explored the plights and conditions of others through poetry and writing? It not only would offer the potential of interesting writing, but it would also aid me in developing greater empathy for others. I need to get reacquainted with poets like Norman Dubie who excel at monologues from the point of view of other people, including historical figures. 

Friends working in a soup kitchen

Of course, empathy without caring action is useless. I need to make it priority to find ways to put my empathy for others to good use. Even if that starts as a simple phone call or visit to support someone with my presence. After doing a bit of free writing this morning about homelessness, I texted an old friend who has experienced that. Writing led to seeking connection, which is the way it should be. 

Lastly, allow me to note that I decided yesterday to adopt the practice of 20 minutes of writing daily. Part of the commitment includes doing this writing no matter what the circumstances of my surroundings or the distractions of tasks, guests, travel, or illness. What I'm aiming for is the discipline of writing no matter what else is going on. It seems an achievable goal which could conceivably lead to a good habit.