When camping, backpackers use a ground pad not for softness but for insulation. Without it, our tiny bodies will attempt to warm the cool bulk of planet Earth, chilling us.
I see a similar principle at work in many unhealthy relationships, especially with insitutions. (Contd.)
A "warm" person, because they do not have sufficient insulation, is slowly cooled by the sheer bulk of a church, business, family system, codependent partner, etc. They usually do not notice it until they are getting metaphorically hypothermic. It is always debilitating.
The answer is to pack a metaphorical ground pad and use it thoroughly--that little bit of personal insulation that allows you to stay warm. Perhaps a healthy sense of self. Perhaps a boundary or two. Perhaps simply a hobby, or long walks, or a daily game of cards with your kid.
I hear so much, often from thoughtful people, against “certainty” in matters of the spirit.
I understand they are reacting against a small, over-rational simulacrum of faith, one once likely handed to them with all manner of large and fluffy promises. I also understand that…
…there is a process of the soul that must pass through its dark night, when one loses one’s sense of which way is up, and so may be rearranged; initiated into a new phase of the inner life. In such times there is a real letting go of some surety. But this process only comes to…
…a true resolution in the presence of some large Certainties—the kind we cannot ever really hold, but which may hold us.
And so to demonize “certainty,” even in the little ways, seems to me to be much like a pilgrim pushing a scalpel fiber by fiber into their Achilles’ tendon.
If you write, it's likely that a key step in your growth will be learning to quiet whoever it is that's "looking over your shoulder."
This is that unspoken influence (essence of parent, teacher, pastor, etc.) who wishes you to be a smaller, more convenient version of yourself.
It is a very personal thing to discern and shed this watcher-on-the-shoulder. To do so does not mean disrespect to the people whose voices have got inside you. You do not honor them by letting their disembodied voice steer you. Telling the truth is the vocation of the writer.
One of the writer's deep and constant temptations is the lure of the false self. When we write from this space, we do not share ourselves as gift with our reader, we cultivate a persona. The effect of this is to try to take something from our reader (attention and praise).
On that trip (with precious time spent with @stephenproctor, @MelissaMoore77, @BethMooreLPM, @cottrelltravis, and @Biscuet), I was reading Nabokov's "Pale Fire," swimming daily in the lake, and thinking much of the constancy of change, the mad, good grief of gaining-by-losing...
That principle (lose to find, die to live, change to be constant) is the core of the natural order, and the core of the Way of new life. It makes fools of the wise, and is very beautiful. It is in the bones and cones of the world, coded in the rock and sun and water. It is love.
I spend a lot of time writing (and working with writers), and I have become extremely leery about what often feels like half of the writing helps and platitudes out there, including most "hacks," and nearly all "distraction-free" software, etc. Here's why...
Organizational methods are fine, and if there is a specialized product or strategy that helps you do that, more power to you. But they will only solve superficial problems in the writer's life or method, and they often offer a comforting, distractive sense of false productivity.
For most people, writing is difficult. This is for many reasons, but they tend to follow certain patterns. Many beginners struggle with either a sort of stage fright at seeing a blank page, or a logorrhea so intense that they can't shut the words off, and lose objectivity.
Working with many writers over the past ten+ years, I have noticed three "types." All of them can produce excellent work, but each have unique roadblocks to getting work done well.
The three: The Overthinker, the Underthinker, and the Middlethinker. (Read on...)
The Overthinker does precisely what you'd think. They're their own opponent on the page. Every line, every paragraph is a slow wrestling match between them and their "thing": perhaps imposter syndrome, a need to "research more," or just decision-making paralysis. They do best...
...when encouraged, warmly and genuinely, and urged simply to "jump." Perfection is impossible, but the reader doesn't know that. Commit! Do your work, yes, but also know when to stop. It does not take a week to scramble one egg! They are formidable when they take that leap.