I am surprised by my ability to write, today. I hurt.
Not bad. Because, I can write. But, when I have painful days that are not bad, I sometimes ask why I should bother.
The answer is that I never know what will happen after trying. Each day of practice is another chance to crack the hard shell of the walnut. The meat is tasty. Yes.
I just wrote a passage for the narrative that forms the basis of my book. Today, I can hold my head high. On my pillow, as I drift to sleep.
I will start by telling you where I am. People, who know I am writing a book, often ask. Well. How far along are you? How many pages have you written? I can tell my answers leave them silently wondering. So, today is just a progress report. I know it seems weird that I need to begin my discourse on writer’s block with a progress report on my book. I wish it was easier to explain.
*** *** ***
You see. The problem is that my book is embedded in my daily journal. Every day, a new page. Here is how I now organize them.
I have a Journal folder. Journal is broken down by years. Years are broken into months. And months, into days. Days are pages. All things, else, are folders:
Journal/
2011/
.
.
.
2014/
2014-01/
2014-02/
.
.
.
2014-08/
2014-08-01
2014-08-02
2014-08-03
2014-08-04: This is the name of today’s page. August 4th.
I find this particular YYYY-MM-DD format highly intuitive, because, the alphabetical is chronological. No need to look for things. My memories are embedded in time. It’s easier to remember what I wrote by recalling what I was dealing with, when I thunk that thought. And, it is easier to scan my work if it is sorted chronologically. It synchronizes my eyes with my brain.
But, mind the zeros. The zeros are necessary to retain order. This would not work if I had named the 2nd as 2014-08-2. Because, I would have a crisis brewing by the 10th.
My journal is all digital now. But, I have volumes of spiral bound notebooks dating before 2011. That year, writing by hand became difficult.
2011 is mixed between paper and digital. It is the year my symptoms grew loud. My new book actually starts around January of 2013.
Because, by then, I had received a diagnosis, and had the better part of a year to come to terms with what was happening to me physically. By 2013, I was ready to move beyond it, as a subject for my journal. I had accepted my new situation. By the time 2013 was new, I wanted to write the book I had started, before my symptoms came, to occupy my thoughts. But, that unfinished, old book, and those motivations, seemed too distant.
I know what I should be doing. I should be writing a book. I mean, I have all the time in the world, given that I don’t work, due to my disability.
That’s what I have been telling myself this past year. And, believe me, I have been trying. But, it is time for me to begin speaking about what has been holding me back. My book is the paramount focus of my writing efforts. But, I also have this blog. And, I want to say things. But, I’m telling you that this is not enough.
My daily output was dwindling. I could see it in my journal. It was evident here, on my blog. And, it wasn’t from a lack of effort. I was just finding it difficult to say the things I wanted to say.
Now, it would be wrong to refer to this problem of mine as mere writer’s block. It was certainly a part of the problem. But, it wasn’t even close to being a good, or proper, understanding. And, I can only tell you this now, because I have been learning so much, this year. For instance, I could not have even known where to begin, just last week. Because, last week, this narrative had not yet emerged from within my fog. I could see the shape. I knew I was close to it. But, I couldn’t properly describe what I saw.
So, I’ll begin as though I am discussing writer’s block. And hopefully, after I go on to reveal how much more there was to my case of the dreaded condition, I’ll remember to come back to it, in summary. This tale will play out over the coming days, here, on my blog.
If you want to know how to defeat writer’s block, I will tell you how I defeated mine. I can’t promise that this would work for you. Your circumstances are probably different.
This blog.
I thought, then, that I knew what I wanted to write. But, I actually had some difficulty in achieving my objective. I can see several reasons for this. I will identify and discuss them here, and in upcoming posts.
My first problem is that, although I have been writing daily, none of it seemed appropriate for my blog. So, my early practice was to post stuff from my journal that seemed worth sharing.
Now, here, I would like to introduce a subject. I will call it my writing conscience.
My writing conscience has been nagging me to write specifically for my book. And, write for this blog. But, I was battling unseen forces. And, sometimes you can’t clearly see your enemy until you gain the upper hand.
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.
I want to share something. But, I’m going through one of these myotonic-dystrophy episodes, where exertion brings on pain and.
Moving is exertion. The days go by, and everything I write seems to suck.
My difficulty writing is part of my MD experience. The highs, and lows, roughly follow my symptoms through the months.
So, this evening, I vaporized Sour Diesel.
Cannabis overcomes the inertia built into my symptom-cycle.
And Sour Diesel begs for music.
I fell asleep to Kaya. Bob Marley’s ode to marijuana and rain.
My windows and doors are open. A storm approaches from California. Sometime tomorrow, we should have our first rain since November.
We are overcast with winter warmth. My two cats, and the neighbor’s, are playing tag in the wind.
Throughout the yard and house.
I woke to the question.
Black Uhuru asks.
Something about this song speaks to me.
The experience of life is framed by contrasting interpretations.
The positive and the negative are both constants.
The choice is where to focus.
A foundation, for Conscious-Writing.
Conscious-Writing is Conscious-Thinking.
The above-two-lines should be written on my blog as, a poetic, yet realistic, statement.
That could be the title.
The words, trailing the first comma, of the first sentence, of this stanza.
Realistic, in the sense that.
If Know-One is doing it, someone should.
That someone should be me, because.
There seems to be, a need-in-the-field.
Of Conscious-Awareness.
But, if Someone is doing it, then I should first join.
Discover what they think.
Responses would be welcomed.
I have been quiet the better part of a week. Possibly, the best week of my life, in many ways.
Since my previous post, I have been in wheel-chair prescription-limbo.
It’s bizarre. How strange our worlds?
Become, when insurance enters our lives.
It’s not my control. It’s shared control.
In order to gain control, I have to learn how insurance companies think. It’s what I imagine before.
The alien, suddenly, in my dreams.
And this has been possibly the best week of my life, because, for the rest of it, I have only been writing, and meditating on my manuscript. I am now in full book-writing mode.
Beam me up, Spock.
To a heavenly place.
Each day, when I begin to type.
Thoughts. Not my own.
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 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.
Man. I slept hard last night. Long and hard. Woke up in pain. The whole day was a slog. Then I ate a couple magic brownies.
San Fernando Valley. Ocean grown. Much like a blue dream, in my experience.
Now the ingredients of my snack buoy my thoughts. And I must say, what a wonderful day!
Medical marijuana lets me write, on days I wouldn’t without it.
So. In a sense. Cannabis enhances my productivity.
Productivity is not service.
To The Man.
Productivity is the essence of living.
Artistic expression counts.
One. Two. No?
The Atheist Who Believes in God 