There was a time when nobody cared what I did. That is a time to which I am fast returning.
The difference is that the first time around I was unaware of anyone else's active interest in me (or lack thereof), but this time around I am clear that nobody cares.
But why should anybody do so? We all ply this dark river in our one-woman or one-man canoes, and it is too fast a river, and too turbulent. Under those circumstances active caring for another person is an act of grace. The pains and the aches and the memories of wounds and losses are personal burdens that can't easily be shared.
That is one of the things that sex is for--to bridge the gap, to greet the world naked and to share it, to love and be loved, to touch the sky. But one cannot ask too much of lovers, nor grab for too much sky.
It's a funny thing (and a blessing, I guess) when you, and maybe others around, believe that what you do next might make a difference. Might save some lives, or parts of lives. Might help set some people free.
That's where the promise of who we are comes in to play, the promise of who we are willing to try to be. Do we dream across the threshold of ourselves, a person who maybe makes the world a vanishingly small bit better? If ever we are to become that person, it will be love more than skill, openness rather than dedication, the power of kindness, of naked touching, of ecstatic longing and deliberate vulnerability; feelings that first come to us at birth, at sleeping deeply and with each loving encounter.
We can be awesome in our grief for the world. And we can be restored by our shared grief, and wonder that we might always have been okay.
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Sounds like the toll of cabin fever. Get out of town for a few days.
ReplyDeleteThe internet is a big void to shout into. Luckily, writing itself is the elixir. Feedback is merely gravy.
Thanks for the well-intended thoughts, but consider this: When I posted "The Power of Our Grief," I knew it would be perceived as self-pitying. But I posted it anyway; because I was trying to make a larger (or, at least, another) point. Did I do it well? Probably inelegantly.
ReplyDeleteWriting is, in itself, a grand thing. But feedback ain't merely gravy. Feedback is the world talking back. Like writing, another grand thing.
The internet can be a lot like ham radio - lots of chatter and if you aren't tuned to the right channel at the right time, you could miss it.
ReplyDeleteKind of a paradox if you think about it - oddly news can travel faster and wider than traditional media, yet since ideas are logged and archived and amongst so much other stuff, they can take a while to build momentum or may miss their proper audience timing altogether.
A worthwhile point, though I know people who work diligently and effectively in amorphous internet space to promote ideas and websites.
ReplyDeleteI'm just not one of them, which brings me back to your earlier point about addressing a case of cabin fever by getting out more. That seems good advice--getting out more, virtually or actually, seems a reasonable treatment for a long list of ailments of the mind and body.
Hi Jeff,
ReplyDeleteI definitely read this. That thinking of checking your blog was another way for me to put off what I should be doing shouldn't matter.
So please keep on writing. I've got a lot of procrastinating to do.
Hey, Bright, nice to hear from you. I also received severl e-mails reassuring me, in direct response to the first two lines here ("There was a time when nobody cared what I did. That is a time to which I am fast returning."), that people do care. In almost every case, I responded, but that's not the point, the point is "blah, blah, blah."
ReplyDeleteSo, here's the deal: The point is what I think it is and what everybody else thinks it is. The post does begin with me sounding quite at a loss and needing support. I'm grateful that you and others recognized that and responded. But the other point is this: "Do we dream across the threshold of ourselves, a person who maybe makes the world a vanishingly small bit better? If ever we are to become that person, it will be love more than skill, openness rather than dedication, the power of kindness, of naked touching, of ecstatic longing and deliberate vulnerability..."
I celebrate the fact that we are comrades and I recognize the fact that you and I both are great procrastinators. That is one of our shared vices/virtues. There remains a world that must be one by degrees. And we have a responsibility to win our share. On the other hand, I've no wish to live in a world without procrastinators. Imagine our grief in a world like that.