In our e-salon this morning, the four of us found ourselves at an odd convergence. In the downs. The doldrums. The intersection of Who-the-hell-am-I? and What Do I Think I’m Doing?
The landmarks, the expressions, of this difficult juncture were a bit different for each of us, as were our ideas about how to find the way past it. But the fact is, each of us was feeling a similar pain.
Being a writer, an artist, a musician is a sacred path. And that path is a tough one. The road to Golgotha. A road filled with spikes and bear traps. An ice road with dangerous deeps under a thin and cracking surface.
Maybe this road is no different from the one that anyone travels daily. But as one whose life is made of feeling deeply and looking with magnified focus at what makes us what we are, the trip is hard-going, sometimes.
Our heads go on without us. Our shoulds tug at our coattails. We tell ourselves that we have nothing special to offer. We let the small wounds and slights of daily life puncture our tires. We think too much, as my mum used to tell me.
What we have such a hard time remembering is that the road runs backward and forward at the same time; that each downturn has its pinnacle, from which the view is exalted; exquisite.
Doesn’t make the dark valleys any lighter, but it’s good to remember that the high places are there.
As my friend J and I were just reflecting, the road is like the one that runs through water: the rip-current that lurks in a magnificently turbulent sea. The person who fights the undertow struggles against it to the limit of her strength. Is pulled under. Drowns. The person who understand that the current soon returns the swimmer to the surface will surrender to it, be pulled under, and will pop back up again at a place closer to shore. Because the nature of the invisible road is to give us back to the surface again. One of us drowns, one is spared. The difference is how we deal with it.
We need the upside view. We work for it, live for it. Sometimes we struggle through the uphill climb to reach it, not trusting the downhill momentum that will get us halfway there. If we just let it be what it is.
12 comments
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December 2, 2011 at 5:14 pm
kduewell
I absolutely love this post. Love the analogy of the rip-current, as it’s so very true. I hope this valley doesn’t last long, and that you are soon back on a peak. (Selfishly, so I can read more of your amazing work, of course. 😉
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December 2, 2011 at 6:59 pm
lynnbiederstadt
Glorious, thank you for your words, thank you even more for you. Your encouragement pushes me up that steep upward slope and keeps me moving.
-xoxoxoxox
lynn
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December 2, 2011 at 5:40 pm
HaLin
It surely helps to remember that peaks exist….except that many perish whilst on their way up. Which isn’t really a bad thing. One had rather perish indulging in one’s passion.
Thoughtful note, Lynn.
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December 2, 2011 at 7:00 pm
lynnbiederstadt
HaLin…I’m not sure that I share your resignation for the Darwinian view of writing…I’d much rather live to write another day–and not let the cart run over myself on the downhill run. 😉
-lynn
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December 2, 2011 at 7:18 pm
HaLin
Oh Lynn, my friend! Pardon me if I sounded discouraging. I didn’t mean it one bit. I was making a general observation across other pursuits too, in general. A good lesson on context. My apologies.
Please do keep writing, you don’t need me to tell you how well you write. I look forward to reading you everyday. Wish you the best, always! 🙂
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December 2, 2011 at 7:32 pm
lynnbiederstadt
Oh, HaLin…No offense taken. NONE. And I agree: Better to die in bed during the act of love than never to have loved at all. 😉 !
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December 2, 2011 at 6:25 pm
Alexander M Zoltai
“…trusting the downhill momentum that will get us halfway there. If we just let it be what it is.”
Whew…</b.
And, Yay!! for the Unconscious 🙂
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December 2, 2011 at 7:02 pm
lynnbiederstadt
AZ…The conversation that gave rise to this morning’s post included talk of Jungian therapy…so of course I thought of you. 😉 Whew is right!
-lynn
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December 3, 2011 at 1:10 pm
cmmarcum
Golly Whiz, you’re lucky to have a friend like that. I only get into those kind of conversations with myself, and then I realize that everyone is staring at me. 🙂
All of us feel that we are not doing enough with our lives, but if you stop ‘thinking’ about it and sit down to pat your dog or teach a child something new or have a chat with a friend, share a joke, receive a thanks, you realize this is what it’s all about. Who knows how far a positive wave will go? It might circle the globe like tsunami. They say even plants like encouragement. Maybe you can stand on your back porch, smile at the moon and get back good vibes.
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December 5, 2011 at 4:16 pm
lynnbiederstadt
CMM…I think that being able to have conversations with ourselves–aloud–is one of the best things about being a writer. And, yep, I do stand outside under the moon. And howl. Even when it’s raining.
xo -lb
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December 3, 2011 at 9:39 pm
C.B. Wentworth
Without the struggle, we’d have nothing to write about! 😉 I like it when a story makes me work for it or if a character is irritatingly elusive. For some strange reason, the struggle is what makes the project worth pursuing.
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December 5, 2011 at 4:17 pm
lynnbiederstadt
CBW…”I like it when a story makes me work”…how much do I love that!!!!
-xo lb
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