A bowl of marbles
04.05.08 (8:15 am) [edit] |  |
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A bowl of marbles
Sometimes when I set down to write, it is more as act of faith than anything, for there are mornings when I have no idea what I am going to journal about. I don’t think it is writer’s block, which is obvious that is something I don’t have; it’s just there is so much churning inside me that wants to get out that it can paralyze me. So I often just start, and slowly the flow comes. A good friend of mine teased me about my writing, he said to me once: “is there a thought you ever have that you don’t write down?” I laughed when he said that, and yes there is plenty I don’t write about, but perhaps one day. Or the need to write will go away, for I started writing very late in life, and whatever need caused this to arise, could just as easily leave.
Writing is like giving birth for me; yes a very feminine image as well a maternal. Writing, then sending, is part of an overture that I need to do at this time of my life. For me to simply write and not send would not be worth my time, both are needed, I suppose a stillbirth comes to mind if it is not put out there. I really don’t understand this, since I am sure that many do not read what I send, and that is ok, for my stuff can be long and I am sure often boring. I simply put too much out there, but when I do, something happens inside of me, something good. It is like I have been mulling over things all my life and suddenly I need to see what it looks like. I guess not all of it pretty, but life is like that isn’t it, often not pretty.
I suppose I am trying to bring my heart and head together, at least so that I am consciously aware of it. For now, often actually, I experience a spilt between what comes out when I write, and how I actually experience myself. Sometimes I don’t know where the stuff I write arises from, yet it is there. Perhaps all those who write experience this, or perhaps I am just too scattered in my inner world and writing is the only way that I can get the pieces together. Perhaps it just slows my racing mind down enough so that I can actually get a peek to what is going on inside me. I know that I have a private journal that I keep now, and it is always helpful when I go back a read what I had to say three or four years ago.
I know there is movement in my soul. I also know that I run around the same circles I have always done, yet perhaps better that, than something brand knew every week; now that would be exhausting I think. The progress I seem to be making, is often in spite of me, it is something else, deeper, hidden, working in my life, where some days I will stop and wonder, how I have gotten to where I am at. For in reality I sometimes think I am like a bowl full of marbles scattered over the floor, different colors and sizes with no real rhyme or reason for them at all. Yet again my life is moving forward, or perhaps zig-zagging is the better word, there is some inner movement towards healing, integration that will not allow me to rest, and yes I also feel the pull of grace, perhaps they are the same. Grace is not something apart from life, perhaps it is just life, the gift of it all, the good the bad and the ugly.
My mind still races, though I am better at slowing it down as I age, perhaps that is what the writing is all about, to slow down thoughts and yes my tapes, many of them compulsive and tormenting, if I take the wrong attitude towards them. Some days, when I am tired, or perhaps just down they seem to take over, my dear tapes. They are like annoying flies, a buzzing that I would like to get rid of all together, yet I can’t. I have found that my own inner attitude, that comes from a place far different than the tapes….. a place of freedom, is my only way out. The more I ‘hate’ them, the stronger they get, the less I fight them the weaker their effect, and with humor, well they tend to simply melt away, at least for awhile.
Because of my racing mind that can go in four different directions at the same time, I have learned different ways to deal with them. When walking around, or driving, even when listening to the radio, I have found that small prayers said over and over again, gently and with attention are a real help for me. The holding of the prayer rope, that fits around my wrist when I am not using it, helps to ground me, the feel of the rope bead helps to get rid of stress by the slow movement, and the inner freedom that gives me, allows an inner space that keeps me in God’s presence, the tapes perhaps put on the back burner. I think it is the slow using of the very short prayers that allows the mind to rest, giving me the freedom I need to simply just ‘be’. Now many would go crazy trying to do that. Some try this kind of prayer and become very compulsive about it, which has the exact opposite affect; it can weary instead of refresh, so it is not for everyone by any means. No form of prayer is I guess, we all are unique on how we relate to the divine.
When I was in the Navy and had to do guard duty during the night, I found this form of prayer very helpful in keeping me alert and also it helped to speed up the time. I remember in boot camp, I would at least twice a week get guard duty, or fire watch is what it was called. I would usually get the midnight to four AM watch, which was difficult. When I would start I would take out my Rosary and very slowly recite the prayers, and simply think about the mysteries as I did my rounds. I became alert, for my inner thoughts where directed in a certain direction but not forced, nor was my mind wandering. So I was awake and aware of what was going on around me and best of all, I found that time really speed by. The four hours at times seemed like only one, and when it was over I went right to sleep. Now I would like to say I was bright eyed and bushy tailed in the morning, but that did not happen, I would get up groggy, until my first cup of coffee.
I know that my struggles are pretty much the same for many, true we are each unique, but in many ways the same. It is when I forget this that I can become hard on others, but when I am in touch with my own weakness, failures and inner compulsions, it is very hard to be down on those I know and live with. We each have a heavy inner load to carry, even if hidden it is still there. We often do what we don’t want to, because of these inner triggers that often run the show behind the curtain, playing with the lights, or hidden from our view by the lights. In any case, awareness can at times be over rated, for if anything I am too aware and I don’t think it has helped me all that much. I sometimes feel like I am trying to dance my way through life while looking at my feet, not very helpful, I do trip a lot and I do mean a lot.
Perhaps it is not important, for it is love that calls, I just need to keep the desire to respond burning.
Sometimes when I set down to write, it is more as act of faith than anything, for there are mornings when I have no idea what I am going to journal about. I don’t think it is writer’s block, which is obvious that is something I don’t have; it’s just there is so much churning inside me that wants to get out that it can paralyze me. So I often just start, and slowly the flow comes. A good friend of mine teased me about my writing, he said to me once: “is there a thought you ever have that you don’t write down?” I laughed when he said that, and yes there is plenty I don’t write about, but perhaps one day. Or the need to write will go away, for I started writing very late in life, and whatever need caused this to arise, could just as easily leave.
Writing is like giving birth for me; yes a very feminine image as well a maternal. Writing, then sending, is part of an overture that I need to do at this time of my life. For me to simply write and not send would not be worth my time, both are needed, I suppose a stillbirth comes to mind if it is not put out there. I really don’t understand this, since I am sure that many do not read what I send, and that is ok, for my stuff can be long and I am sure often boring. I simply put too much out there, but when I do, something happens inside of me, something good. It is like I have been mulling over things all my life and suddenly I need to see what it looks like. I guess not all of it pretty, but life is like that isn’t it, often not pretty.
I suppose I am trying to bring my heart and head together, at least so that I am consciously aware of it. For now, often actually, I experience a spilt between what comes out when I write, and how I actually experience myself. Sometimes I don’t know where the stuff I write arises from, yet it is there. Perhaps all those who write experience this, or perhaps I am just too scattered in my inner world and writing is the only way that I can get the pieces together. Perhaps it just slows my racing mind down enough so that I can actually get a peek to what is going on inside me. I know that I have a private journal that I keep now, and it is always helpful when I go back a read what I had to say three or four years ago.
I know there is movement in my soul. I also know that I run around the same circles I have always done, yet perhaps better that, than something brand knew every week; now that would be exhausting I think. The progress I seem to be making, is often in spite of me, it is something else, deeper, hidden, working in my life, where some days I will stop and wonder, how I have gotten to where I am at. For in reality I sometimes think I am like a bowl full of marbles scattered over the floor, different colors and sizes with no real rhyme or reason for them at all. Yet again my life is moving forward, or perhaps zig-zagging is the better word, there is some inner movement towards healing, integration that will not allow me to rest, and yes I also feel the pull of grace, perhaps they are the same. Grace is not something apart from life, perhaps it is just life, the gift of it all, the good the bad and the ugly.
My mind still races, though I am better at slowing it down as I age, perhaps that is what the writing is all about, to slow down thoughts and yes my tapes, many of them compulsive and tormenting, if I take the wrong attitude towards them. Some days, when I am tired, or perhaps just down they seem to take over, my dear tapes. They are like annoying flies, a buzzing that I would like to get rid of all together, yet I can’t. I have found that my own inner attitude, that comes from a place far different than the tapes….. a place of freedom, is my only way out. The more I ‘hate’ them, the stronger they get, the less I fight them the weaker their effect, and with humor, well they tend to simply melt away, at least for awhile.
Because of my racing mind that can go in four different directions at the same time, I have learned different ways to deal with them. When walking around, or driving, even when listening to the radio, I have found that small prayers said over and over again, gently and with attention are a real help for me. The holding of the prayer rope, that fits around my wrist when I am not using it, helps to ground me, the feel of the rope bead helps to get rid of stress by the slow movement, and the inner freedom that gives me, allows an inner space that keeps me in God’s presence, the tapes perhaps put on the back burner. I think it is the slow using of the very short prayers that allows the mind to rest, giving me the freedom I need to simply just ‘be’. Now many would go crazy trying to do that. Some try this kind of prayer and become very compulsive about it, which has the exact opposite affect; it can weary instead of refresh, so it is not for everyone by any means. No form of prayer is I guess, we all are unique on how we relate to the divine.
When I was in the Navy and had to do guard duty during the night, I found this form of prayer very helpful in keeping me alert and also it helped to speed up the time. I remember in boot camp, I would at least twice a week get guard duty, or fire watch is what it was called. I would usually get the midnight to four AM watch, which was difficult. When I would start I would take out my Rosary and very slowly recite the prayers, and simply think about the mysteries as I did my rounds. I became alert, for my inner thoughts where directed in a certain direction but not forced, nor was my mind wandering. So I was awake and aware of what was going on around me and best of all, I found that time really speed by. The four hours at times seemed like only one, and when it was over I went right to sleep. Now I would like to say I was bright eyed and bushy tailed in the morning, but that did not happen, I would get up groggy, until my first cup of coffee.
I know that my struggles are pretty much the same for many, true we are each unique, but in many ways the same. It is when I forget this that I can become hard on others, but when I am in touch with my own weakness, failures and inner compulsions, it is very hard to be down on those I know and live with. We each have a heavy inner load to carry, even if hidden it is still there. We often do what we don’t want to, because of these inner triggers that often run the show behind the curtain, playing with the lights, or hidden from our view by the lights. In any case, awareness can at times be over rated, for if anything I am too aware and I don’t think it has helped me all that much. I sometimes feel like I am trying to dance my way through life while looking at my feet, not very helpful, I do trip a lot and I do mean a lot.
Perhaps it is not important, for it is love that calls, I just need to keep the desire to respond burning.