Aren't we sweet?
I'm thinking now of both the joy of writing and the courage it takes to be a writer.
The photo booth picture was taken when I was 16 and Allen was 20. I think the joy in our faces is unmistakable. Remember what first love feels like? It's written all over our faces, isn't it?
Writing is something like that--an incredible joy. It bubbles forth sometimes, and somewhat out of control. I can't let myself forget about joy: that writing isn't JUST hard work and commitment--it has its feel good moments.
The other side of it, though, is courage. The courage to press on even when you aren't feeling this kind of joy. Like in any marriage, there are bound to be rough spots and moments when you just want to give up.
That's when you have to be willing to risk the embrace again.
One of my favorite Zen stories addresses the twin concepts of love and courage:
IF YOU LOVE, LOVE OPENLY
Twenty monks and one nun, who was named Eshun, were practicing meditation with a certain Zen master.
Eshun was very pretty even though her head was shaved and her dress plain. Several monks secretly fell in love with her. One of them wrote her a love letter, insisting upon a private meeting.
Eshun did not reply. The following day the master gave a lecture to the group, and when it was over, Eshun arose. Addressing the one who had writen her, she said: "If you really love me so much, come and embrace me now."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
This story gives me a shiver. He loved her but not completely, not enough to risk his future for her.
This story makes me ask myself: am I willing to do what it takes to love the act of writing openly? That is, will I throw obligation, propriety, comfort, my future--all of these out the window for the chance to fully embrace it?
I'm a solitary writer, just as I'm a solitary person. When I write, I'm very secretive, because I must conserve all my energy for my project. Talking too much about it (specifics) lets the air out of my enthusiasm.
But I think there has to be a part of you that's totally open to the possibility that your writing (not just writing, any art) is the most the important thing there is. It's a vow, just like a love vow.
And you have to be willing to let some aspects of yourself die for the sake of your art.
Joy and courage. They aren't necessarily opposites, but they do create a sort of tension that's hard sometimes to reconcile.
I'm working on it.
12 comments:
I too understand the special hex against openness that we writers face. The irony of it all.
Steven
First I have to say, in those pictures you look just like my great aunt Nancy when she was that age. I mean it's a bit scary lol I'll have to see if I can get a picture of her from back then. And the two of you did look insanely happy.
I understand exactly what you mean about keeping your writing "hidden" in a sense. I do the exact same thing. It's hard for me to let anyone read a story or poem that I'm working on. Usually keep them hidden.
I love that story too. It's true. If you love someone, truly love them, you'd do anything. I know I would anyway. True love is such a beautiful, rare and blessed thing.
~Lily
Theresa I have been writing and rewriting a poem for Spencer's Place; You Touch My Heart...I almost deleted it today. When I posted it, my son called to say he had tears in his eyes...he knew the gentleman who died. Sometimes I find it difficult to share my innermost feelings at all. In this cas I am glad I did...cmp
Love the pictures. I have found that it takes courage to even write in my journal because I do expose so much of myself. AND I have found the joy in doing just that.
Sometimes I think lack of courage is my biggest weakness as a writer. I fear so many things, breaking down each barrier, the fear that I'm not really good, the fear that if I make a greater commitment to my writing that the cost will be so high that I'll regret it ... so many things, some of which I know are just stupid. I know I have to face each one as it arises. For now, I just keep writing, going forward even if the steps are small an shaky. (By the way, y'all are absolutely adorable.)
there is always the risk, i think, that you may throw yourself out there ... and NOT be able to reel yourself back in. facing THAT risk takes courage
this is a beautiful entry my friend. I love the little snapshots. judi
Notes from a beginning writer- The satisfaction is in facing down the fear, and letting the words fly, which once tasted, is exhilarating and addictive. It is like nothing else. Without it is torture- Like love. Privacy is necessary and transcendant. Primary is commitment and intimacy which always implies risk. It is like skydiving without the parachute- You always remember the first time. Sometimes you think you will die. Somehow you survive. And you must do it again. No. I've never tried skydiving. But I do remember learning how to ski without poles. It felt like flying. Or my first waltz with a skilled partner. Something about letting go and free falling. And of course, this is just like love. In the eyes of the beloved, you can live and die in a moment. When you write, the same thing happens on the page.
ggw07@aol.com
I'm working on it too. I've noticed making my journal private has changed my voice a little. Whether that's a good thing, I have no idea.
Yes, I think the concept of commitment--the vow--and the shunning of other distractions are necessary for art. But if that's what it takes...and that's the only way I'm going to be satisfied.... I love the photos. --Beth
Beautiful entry...Thank you.
V
I write with abandonment...almost as if some other force inhabits my thoughts.
I write to live and live to write.
I can barely seperate the concept of living and writing.
Most of my poetry haunts me and seems to bubble forth from some other woman.
It is a true paradox of joy and pain that captures my soul like the aftermath of a very bad car accident. I look but am ashamed by the looking.
(I don't have the good sense to look away.)
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