I admit that I am not always brilliant, ( well duh ! we noticed ) but I feel compelled to write. I think I am writing to leave behind a trail so that I will know how I got to where I’m going when I get there. Breadcrumbs. To trace a path back if I get lost.
What does it mean to be a human? Is that why we write, to define it?
“This is what it was like for this human being to live life on planet earth in the year 2003.” This is how I tried to understand what being a person is all about. The more complicated part is to understand what it means to be a soul in a strange land, trying to find our way back home. Like Abraham,
God said to him, “Leave your father’s house and go to yourself.” What an odd thing for God to say,”go to yourself”. . . But He was establishing that our Self was a destination. What will we find there ?
I was at the library yesterday searching through the science fiction for something to read. I’ve spent these last many years reading mostly non fiction and I’m needing a break from so much “reality”. When I saw how MANY science fiction books there were, I was amazed. And I got to thinking, how many stories about quests do we need to tell? And maybe the answer is, as many as we possibly can. So often the story seems to be about outward things, slaying dragons and fighting the evil genius, but in reality the important discoveries and victories are the inner ones.
Who am I ? and all the questions that follow that one are what the stories are about. I suppose writing is another way to say, “I was here.” Much like the Roman roads or the Egyptian pyramids. This is what I saw, this is what I wondered, this is what I concluded and then revised and then rejected and had to start over again.
One thing for sure, I have certainly concluded that I don’t want to move from one amusement to another like a restless, nervous animal pacing back and forth in a space too small for me. Constantly being distracted from the real work at hand.
If I stay in one spot, but think a thought all the way to the end of thought, THAT would be something. There comes a time in all journeys when words will not be enough. When what you see and hear has no equivalent in this world. But until I reach that point of departure from thought, I write. To leave a trail. This is the way I went. This is what I found. This is what was beautiful. This is what broke my heart. This is what healed me. This is what made me human.