Category Archives: Religion

This evening has been different.

Than yesterday, and the day before.

Same pain.  More energy.  But weak.

I didn’t expect much when I approached today’s writing.  It felt perfunctory.

Then, I got going.  In the past, I would flail for days, anticipating a revisitation by my muse, sometime after my symptoms would inevitably recede.

I would write for days, waiting for creative insights to return.

However, today, although I still feel crappy, my mojo reappeared.  I wrote a thousand words, most destined for some place in my story.

I am excited, because these past six months, I have been writing in my journal about these episodic symptoms that set back my mind, every time.  I knew I needed to overcome these ill effects.

Somehow, I trusted that the seemingly endless weeks of deep concentration would eventually pay off.

My second post back from today, I attributed my new ability to brain-rewiring.

My book is being physically wired into my brain, by my mind.

A first-time writer has more to overcome than a published author.  Both are telling a story.  But a new author has to figure out how to tell a story, before doing so.

A nascent writer’s brain is pure potential, until the secrets of success unlock themselves from past habits of thinking.

Until everything else in life became secondary to my book, I couldn’t appropriately focus my thoughts.

Until I could focus my mind, I couldn’t envision how to achieve that first draft.

Today, I can trust in the process.  Just write every day.

 

Now, this is progress!

After I woke, I napped for three hours on the couch.  I am in that exhaustive phase, where pain is something in which I am immersed.

But, I vaporized some Blue Dream.  And, with it, and the extra sleep, I am alright.

There is something noteworthy in this experience.  Although I am dealing with the pain and the fatigue, I haven’t lost sight of my narrative.  This is my first experience of being knocked back, by my symptoms, but not out.  In the past, this is where I would have forgotten everything I was thinking.  In the past, my remaining strength would have bounced me between the couch, and my bed.

Today is different.  Today, I can still think about my book in a way that moves it forward.

I see this as behavioral evidence of brain re-wiring.  I started this book during the last few months of my employment.  And, I have been consciously developing a voice and a narrative during this last year.  My worst symptoms always seemed to make my creative work vanish.  Mentally, it would take days, or weeks, to get the creativity back, and more effort to re-develop the narrative, in my mind.

This is the first time I have experienced these symptoms and retained my creative faculties.

Shh. Shh. Writer at work.

The blog has not gone.

Quiet.  Writer.  Preoccupied.

My creative periods come in spurts, between bouts of symptoms.

My book is my focus.  I am writing my calling card.

In this moment, between symptoms, I can be intensely productive.

I am on disability.  But, I no longer believe my condition should hold me back.

My book, if she sells, will be evidence I can earn my own keep.

Silence is the foundation on which all noise is built.

Sacred Space.

Within, I work.

Things my characters would say.

I am recovering from an intense period of brainstorming that was very beneficial to the evolution of my writing.  But I am back, to actively telling a story.

I finally understand the text I am writing, as the synthesis of all the possibilities I wined and dined in my mind.  Is it fiction?  Check.  Is it memoir? Fuzzy check.

At one point, I thought I was exploring a new space called Fantasy Memoir.  I don’t know if there is such a thing.  There probably is, because when I think I have a good idea, if I look hard enough I will find others preceded me in that particular line of imagination.

But, I have also explored different options to speak my thoughts as non-fiction.  That, though, would require something different than what my spirit wants to say.  My spirit wants a Meta-Myth.

I have found that my spirit, when I judge that it is grounded in appropriate aspirations, typically identifies fruitful avenues.  And, my spirit is telling me to write a myth about myth.

This evening, I once again sat down to work on my manuscript.  And, I wrote a bunch of stuff that doesn’t belong in that piece.  But, it belongs in the story.  So, I have within my Scrivener project, folders for what different characters might say.  And, I am further breaking it down by having individual pages of possible statements and thoughts for each main character at the beginning of the story, the middle, and the end.

My writing style is haphazard, in the sense that I follow inspiration where it takes me.  To hell with the narrative, when great ideas come for individual moments.  So, I write them where I am, which is my draft.  And then, I have to pull them back out.  I just read what I wrote this evening.  It’s all great.  But, none of it seems to go together.

Tomorrow, I will re-organize today’s writing, as a warm-up activity, after my journaling, but before my story-telling.  I approach my writing as a potter explores hand-built pieces.  I am developing a narrative for all of the individual inspirations, that provide context for a truth I seek to convey.

 

Some Thoughts…. I need to get out of my head before I can share my views on God.

I have received multiple invites to watch today’s debate between Bill Nye, The Science Guy, and Ken Ham.

One of the hams on stage is a creationist.  The other will represent evolution.  In a theatrical form.

Symbolically, we get to choose.  Which one is right?

But, I won’t tune in, until it has cured a few weeks, on a hook in the meat closet.  Away from the flies.

Right now I don’t want to watch it at all.  Because, I know which side is right.

Neither!  The reason we have these silly debates is because we aren’t able to move beyond our differences.  I want to talk about how we can.

*****

I have been waiting for the right moment to elevate the content of my blog.  Today seems perfect, for a couple reasons.

One.  I am more lucid to-day, than any other, these past couple weeks.  And when I am lucid, my thoughts drift to the big questions we all struggle with.  God, or no.  Life, and the before-after sandwich we call the spiritual.  And, consciousness.

Also.  Two.

There’s a reason for switching my voice, that allows me to discuss why my voice has changed.  It’s not puberty!  Just so no one is confused.

Voices change with thoughts.

The Ham-Nye debate somehow represents my own thoughts, and my blog.  How opportune!

So onwards from here.   Some days I will share my thoughts about God.  Others, I will think about the mind.  And still others, I will pull lint from my navel.  But, it’s all related.  Trust me.

At least now, hopefully I can launch directly into discussions of my beliefs about God, without feeling self-conscious doing so.

*****

You may have noticed that my writing often seems focused on ordinary things.  The useless riffraff, left from otherwise forgettable days.  And, yet, today, I am switching to the topics of God, and death, and understanding.  Even if, only my own.

But, my ordinary days are always related to the special, now that I pay attention.  I write about the ordinary so that I can draw on those experiences when discussing the extra-ordinary.  So, when you read about my day shopping for a wheel chair, or another spent dealing with the insurance company that cut off my disability payments, it’s because my ordinary experiences have some meaning for me.  And, I want to convey meaning through my writing.  But, I can only do so through the trial and error of everyday attempts.

I want you to see me for who I am.  I am sometimes neurotic.  And, I guess that makes me human.  And if you can see me as human, then you can read my thoughts without being offended.  And believe me.  Some of my thoughts will offend.  It’s why I don’t discuss them lightly.

*****

Here are some rules that might help clarify my posts regarding God, and no gods, and religion.  My first on the topic, but by no means, my last.

  • I reserve the right to offend.  I’m not trying to offend.  It’s just inevitable, if I am to express myself clearly.
  • You reserve the right to be offended.  Just know, I’m not doing it, like a comedian.  Whether you thump a bible, or got rid of yours long ago, my views might offend you.  Or worse, turn you off.  But, I don’t want anyone to think I am making anyone else the butt of a joke.  I may discuss a certain belief, and then tweak it to get a point across.  Once you feel that point, you might get what I am saying.  Sometimes offending each other is the only way we can communicate.
  • You reserve the right to offend me.  If I am wrong, please tell me.  I want to know, because I want to grow.  And I typically have to be dragged, kicking and scratching against the friction of my offended feelings.
  • We respect each other as human beings.  The golden rule doesn’t belong to any one set of beliefs.  I believe religious people can be rational.  I also believe that atheists can be irrational.   But, sanity is our common right.  We will never arrive.  But, it is possible to imagine how we will all be viewed one day by the survivors.

*****

I believe we can only understand properly through other points-of-view.  This is not a place where one of us is right and the others are wrong.  Common understanding comes through mutual understanding.  We each embody something the other needs.  And truth is never perceived directly.  Nor is it claimed as a battlefield prize.

This blog is not where you capitulate to me, or visa versa, unless one of us is seriously wrong.  This blog is where believers and atheists are welcome to commune.  I do believe a common understanding is possible, and that belief vs. non-belief is the wrong way to approach the subject.

Sure, it’s necessary for some people from each persuasion to duke it.  But, that’s only because they symbolize what we all struggle with.  And their fight is the topic of our discussion.  It’s the human way to understand.

The monkey way.  The tribal way.

At least, it’s my way.