(note: I am challenging myself to write every day for 30 days. What follows may not necessarily be interesting or even coherent. Parental discretion is advised.)
It’s 11pm here right now and I have only an hour left to make sure I get my daily writing in.
I toyed with a few ideas on what to write but couldn’t nail anything down. Poetry, stories, article, observation… Nothing really stuck.
That’s okay, of course, because there is no pressure on me to be doing any of this. This is my own thing.
Pride and faith.
Just have to write. Sometimes… Writing with nothing in mind is better than not writing at all. An interesting… effect… because I’m not focused on anything other than the expression of my thoughts. Raw and unedited and unplanned.
It’s been an interesting experiment having to do this every day for 30 days. 12 more to go and I’ll be released from this obligation. How I feel about that, I’m not sure… It’ll be liberating but… It’ll also be the beginning of a new chapter.
Do I want to continue writing every day? I’m not sure… This idea… motivating myself by making writing a part of daily life no matter what, is… has been valuable for me to do.
I wrote earlier about how discipline equals freedom and this is me putting that adage into action. Really crystallizing and integrating such advice.
In this age of information inundation, it becomes very easy to get a hold of sensible advice and suggestions only to forget about it a short while later. Distracted by another shiny piece of information. An endless barrage of disposable novelty.
It’s easy to let thoughts pass through. Not really holding onto any one of them.
Like… catching fish in a stream. Here’s a bright one… oh, here’s a blue one, a red fish, a glittery one, a giant fish, etc.
Nothing is really being taken home and… fully developed to its intended effect.
At least that’s the sense I get about myself at times. Sure, I have a belief system that is composed of experiences and bits of knowledge I’ve picked up and integrated over the years, but I notice that I approach a lot of information these days with skepticism. I’m open-minded enough to consider the value of something and will do research until I determine whether or not it is important enough for me to hold onto.
Usually it isn’t.
And usually it is.
The saying that knowledge is power has been… somewhat of a motto for my life up to this point. I’ve always felt that… the more I read and learn, the more wise in my ways I’ll be. And… modestly stated, I do feel that I’ve grown a lot as a human being in the ways that I see myself and others and the world I live in.
It’s all… complicated. Deep.
It is the fish in the stream that fingers brush against but never fully grasp.
And… I get reminded of one of my favourite novels, Valis by Philip K Dick.
He thought the same thing. He thought… that God was this… nebulous creature that camouflaged itself to hide in plain sight. God or the Supreme Intelligence or Knowing could only be arrested in the peripherals of one’s vision. It could never be looked at head-on because once it realizes your attention, it simply changes shape and becomes another animal altogether.
This line of thinking also reminds me of the legend of Sisyphus. In that story, Sisyphus was condemned by the Gods to roll a boulder up a mountain and when he would reach the top, it would slip free from his grip to roll back down. Where he would have little choice but to roll it back up again.
Over and over.
Just when I think I’ve reached the summit of knowledge, I find my boulder tumbling down again. Just when I think I’ve figured things out, the fish escapes from my grasp.
These are metaphors for my own personal truth. That… We can never really know for sure how everything is. Anyone who chases enlightenment is looking everywhere but inside of themselves and even when they are in acceptance of this fact, the search becomes ever more layered and nuanced and complex and frustrating.
Maybe Sisyphus should have sat next to the boulder as it landed on the ground and contemplated his purpose. Why was it so important for him to get this rock to the top? What was at stake? What was he trying to prove?
The myth doesn’t explain what compels Sisyphus to roll the boulder, but Camus does bring existentialism into the mix in suggesting that we must persevere in the face of absurdity. To accept meaning and purpose regardless of how meaningless and absurd it may actually be.
Similarly, Viktor Frankl in “Man’s Search for Meaning” also makes the point that meaning and purpose should not depend on any external factors. It is subjectively arrived upon and adhered towards regardless of the outcome that is achieved.
Sometimes meaning can be found in simply staying still and silent and being aware.
In short… I realize that my chasing after the Truth is an obsession that momentarily subsides when my appetite gets its fill. But the obsession builds up again and I find myself growing ravenous in the consumption of books, music, movies, articles…
Always searching for whatever it is my heart hopes to find.
And feel.
So… apologies to you, dear reader, for this post was not well-written or thoughtful or planned. I felt… that writing from a place of feeling rather than thinking was what I needed to do on day #18.
As the disclaimer above notes, there is no guarantee I’ll write about anything interesting or that it would be coherent and make sense.
Sometimes… writing is all one needs to do. No agenda in mind other than to let thoughts and feelings flow out into your fingertips and onto a screen or piece of paper.
Sometimes that is all the purpose and meaning we need.
It may not make sense, but it feels good.
Perhaps this is how Sisyphus felt as he wearily looked upon a fallen boulder for the hundredth time.
It doesn’t make any sense, but the effort is the reward.
The effort is the drug. The purpose. The meaning. The reason.
Regardless of what it is being placed towards.
Hm.
Something to think about.
Catch you all tomorrow.
