There’s always something more important to do than write a blog (an inarguable truth if ever there was one!) but it occurred to me tonight that if, on my theoretical deathbed, I were to have the luxury of regretting things – or rather the luxury of time and intellectual solvency within which to regret anything – I would regret not writing more blogs. It’s a little odd, with all I’ve done and all I’m doing, all I’ve become and all I’m becoming, that blogs would still represent a point of pride, for me, but they do. Their very purposelessness is joyful, possibly profound. It’s easier to allow one’s self to be galvanized by a “higher” purpose towards creative expression (see? I’m raising awareness – I’m sounding a call to action – I’m reaching out for others like me – I’m responding to something else), and there’s nothing wrong with that. But I like the purity of the totally unpaid, unsolicited, unplanned, and unpredictable impulse to write.
I don’t actually plan to regret anything on my deathbed, because I check in with myself a lot, and I also don’t believe in deathbeds. I’m pretty sure you just withdraw your focus from this plane, either gradually or suddenly, and it’s replaced by another plane of interesting things to focus on, and maybe that shift was preceded by you laying in a bed, surrounded by your huge mafia family or whatever, but that wouldn’t even be the thing you were noticing right then.
Anyway. I hope that I write more blogs before I withdraw my focus from this plane. It’s such an interesting plane! I don’t feel jaded or tired or even wise, yet. I don’t know what’s going to happen next, and I often don’t even know what *I’m* going to do or say next. But there has been some undeniable improvement in skill, as I’ve gone along. I don’t notice it much until I’m around the millennials, and then one of two things will happen: either I’ll notice that they’re making life hard, because they’re young, or I’ll notice that they’re like black belts at everything, at life, and I’m still trying to tie my existential shoes. I was (thankfully) peripheral to a conversation with a young lady in her 20’s yesterday, and she was so confident, so smart, so good at what she was doing, so pretty, and so articulate, that I nearly sighed in appreciation. And certainly, the long dark teatime of the soul comes to us all, eventually, and then recedes like the tide, and we are changed, and you never know if you’re meeting someone before, during, or after that process, which is a recurrent one in any case. I don’t want anyone to be battle-scarred, least of all myself, but sometimes I flounder, socially, when confronted with the unbroken baby skin of apparently categorical beginner’s luck.
But like I said, I have noticed improvement in myself. I told someone today that I was feeling disconnected from them, but that it was my desire to feel connected to them, and also my commitment to relay honestly my status in that regard, and that I had some ideas about what I could do today to feel successful personally and which would also allow my feelings of connectedness to return. Being able to not only observe that in myself, but also speak to it calmly and kindly, was only a little baby step this morning, but it was a quantum leap from where I’ve been historically.
Another thing – I’ve blogged semi-dedicatedly through several changes of heart, through many major gestures of spiritual growth, and the pattern that’s characterized my blogging lately is, frankly, its absence. But it’s been a very felt absence, for me, and one that seems pregnant
with new insight. For one thing, I’ve slowly become someone who doesn’t like to hear herself complain. I have the vocabulary and the intellect to complain so charmingly, so humorously, so eloquently, and so convincingly, that indeed it was tough to truly give it up (and I still catch myself in the act, but at least I don’t etch it in stone anymore). But I’ve learned: you don’t actually give anything up for less – you’ll only give it up for more. I like who I am when I’m speaking lovingly to others, lovingly to myself. I like who I am when I find ways to write, and things to say, that feel like a higher truth rather than a lower truth. And I like giving myself permission to explore that, without the artifice of purpose. I like, perhaps, most of all, the fact that I’m out of time right now, and I knew I didn’t have long, and I decided to assay a blog in that little scrap of time anyway :).