Writing as Obsession

We do not write because we want.  We do not write for fortune or fame.  We do not write for things external.

We write because we must.  

There is a deep compulsion to put thoughts to words.  When thoughts float around in the head, they do not appear as real as when committed to paper.  As they are put to paper, they acquire energy and power and life that as floating thoughts, they are close to nothing.  Once put to paper, they are no longer the same thoughts.  This is often shocking to we writers.  We think, then write, and then are shocked to see the thought written.  It is a different kind of reality.  Thoughts are fleeting.  Fleeting thoughts written often create fear.  Temporary things becoming potentially immortal is not something we humans know quite how to deal with effectively.  An immortal person is called a god.  An immortal thought is written as word, and we do not have a special word to call this uncanny transition.  

Once I paused and took note of the attitude of non-writers toward the written word.  It strikes fear in many.  Talking is fleeting - like the wind.  The written word seems permanent and unchanging.  Writing is also a different reality.  Since its significance is in permanence, to a non-writer, this is uncanny.  I read my thoughts from journals 20 years ago.  I was the thinker of the thoughts, so thus, they seem somewhat real, but frozen in time.  The problem is that non-writers do not remember the events.  Remembrance of some events to the non-writer strikes great fear in many.  Thus, we writers are scary to many people.  When words pour out, we know that they come quickly, and we are accustomed to change.  But to the non-writer reading words, these things appear scary and real.  The fact that something is captured as a thought in time seems to be a capturing of the soul.  

Words are magic.  With the proper craftsman, words can bring nations to heel, inspire an army, and conquer the world.  Words are dangerous.  Words are more weaponized than what soldiers use.  Napoleon once said that one writer was a strong as a platoon of 1000 men with guns.  

The magic, the creation, the remembrance, the play with the past, present and the future - we writers must write because we participate in this magic - the most powerful and real magic imaginable.

Dark Night of the Soul

When you choose a spiritual path, you choose the cyclic nature of Spirit.  The spirit is wind or breath traditionally speaking.  The wind blows when it blows, and it is still when it is still.  We have no control over the wind.  

Thus, if we ascend the heights of Spirit, we also accept the depths.  It is like going out to the Sea - you ride the crest and the trough of the waves.

The Dark Night of the Soul - what is this?  Nothing works.  Prayer, ritual, meditation, charity - nothing works.  Everything that once worked from where you draw strength no longer works.  Nobody understands you.  Even those who have gone through the Dark Night have no concept because the Dark Night has a strange way of annihilating the Ego to the point where we do not clearly recall the Dark Night - it is like a half remembered dream that does not seem quite real - we may even doubt it ever happened.  This is what happens when Ego fades and all is left is the Void - the For Itself, the Abyss, or whatever words we attach to it.  

Others only see the Persona - our face to the World.  They cannot perceive - perhaps even conceive - that we experience the Void, the Abyss, the Nothing, the No Thing.   

Mortification of the Flesh on a Bike

Someone once said that cyclists all had demons they fought with the act of cycling itself.  Hard exercise is often mortification of the flesh. And, so it is.

Today I was riding my road bike along the backroads around Avery Island, Louisiana.  I rode almost 15 miles.  It was hot, and I had ridden 11 miles yesterday along a similar route.  

The route was the typical desolation of this area of the country: stagnant bayous, tall weeds, bad pavement, humidity, intense heat, dumped trash, patched trailers, and the sound of cicadas.  The water stank with brackish putridity.  

In all this desolation, you think - especially on a bike.  I was pushing myself.  I had to.  It was unpleasant riding on bad pavement; my hands shook and my bones rattled as if I were using a jackhammer.  

Mortification of the flesh!  The spirit is freed!  It is like fasting, or some ritual of deprivation.  You find out what is important, and what is not.  Your perspective widens and you see clearly things you had not when the flesh was not mortified.  When the environment all around you is devoid of meaning, the spirit arrives and fills the void.  The desert is where all the major religions began.  Since nature abhors a vacuum, our desolate areas become settings of spiritual renewal - if only for a while, or for longer.

Often, we find strength in situations that appear intolerable at the time.  Of course, afterward is always when we realize this.  If we realized this in the moment, it would not be the same, and it would not have the same effect.  We cannot realize it in any case because of the nature of the ebb and flow of spiritual stress and spiritual flourishing.  One gives rise to the other in a regular rhythm.  

Spirit and Life Part I

Spirit and Life Part I

One test of spirituality is when one walks into a building or into a conversation.  Can you breathe?  Is the air fresh from a spirit perspective?  Or, do you feel boxed in, on edge, nervous, or uncanny?  These are signs for spirituality or lack thereof.  

The older we get, the closer we come - to giving birth to a spirit being - in death.  Thus, we develop better understanding of spirit as we age - especially as we cross the threshold of middle age.  

In Latin as well as Greek (spiritus, pneuma) it refers to breath.  To truly understand Spirit, we must understand the original and universal meaning of the words with the same referent.  Thus, Spirit, means breath.  It is the air we breathe.  Thus, Holy Spirit is Holy Breath.  

We see the importance of this breathing in meditative practices.  Almost all of them have breath exercises.  Sometimes you focus on the breath.  Sometimes you breathe deeply.  Often breath walking is used.  Taking deep breaths is also common.  Correct or elegant ways of breathing is also taught among many.

Thus, to be spiritual is connected to being able to breathe - literally and figuratively.  Even the animals know that when something hisses, it is signaling that it is alive and ready for action - it is not dead and ready to be eaten!

Breath and wind are fluids.  Often, another way to understand spirit is the use of water - another fluid.  Baptism is with water.  Many meditative and therapeutic practices use water - massage, aroma therapy, a spa, steam rooms, cold showers, and the like.  

Thus, Spirit is formless, and we cannot get our hands around it - literally and figuratively.  It is undefined.  It changes.  It takes the form of the container, or no form when flowing or blowing.  

One word of caution is Spirit as Fire.  In the New Testament, during the Day of Pentecost, Spirit is referred to as Fire.  What happens when something catches fire?  It is consumed - destroyed.  Often fire provides warmth for comfort and cooking, but it is dangerous.  Thus, Spirit as Fire is dangerous lest we be burned.  So what is Spirit as Fire?  It is warmth and energy.  

Fire, like air and water, is a fluidic substance that has no set form or shape, and is in harmony with the other symbols, as long as we can perceive their commonality - fluid, flowing, undefined, uncontained, life-giving, refreshing, formless, flowing or blowing.

Thus, Spirituality in our lives should have some strong symbolic reference to these substances - the universal one is breath and Air, followed by Water, and lastly, Fire.

As before, a good test of spirituality is when one walks into a building or into a conversation.  Can you breathe?  Is the air fresh from a spirit perspective?  Or, do you feel boxed in, on edge, nervous, or uncanny?  These are signs for spirituality or lack thereof.  

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