The Meta-Conversation
I've been writing on Substack for over a year and learned a few things: I've discovered how my thoughts constantly evolve and that waiting until they are perfectly developed before typing them out is never to write another word again. Reading my old opinions and finding that I have moved past them helps me see where I've grown or learned something. Seeing some of my words and experiences impact others has been rewarding and motivating in an often ineffable way. Competing with other writers (who don't know they are competing with me) has been beneficial. Not least of these lessons is the realization that this Substack has a life of its own; it has subverted my vision and become something else. Lastly, an honorable mention for all the lessons learned, which have become so innate I don't recall them, as there are many.
I had plans for what this space was to be. The form it would take in my life and the lives of others: I thought it would be a place where I would post lessons I've learned and pass them on to others like a helping hand. This is a not unreasonable idea given the odd and occasionally extreme circumstances I've found myself in over the years and how I've not lost my mind in the process; on the contrary, I've regained it. As I published more, I became aware that I was not sharing lessons learned; I was learning lessons as I shared.
In a way, I've been publicly dispensing my demons and struggling to understand concepts that stick in my mind like a good rash. After journalling and thinking, I eventually typed the published posts, which became a summation of my recent thoughts. My fiction (more posts of that coming) is no exception. But in fiction, the ideas I've been digesting become couched in a layer of myth and imagination.
I like the course my writing has taken, and I will continue on it. However, I refuse to try to turn my path into a mission statement with a target market and business plan attached. That would spoil the possibilities for those moments of meaning we cannot plan. From those moments, I've cultivated a more profound sense of where I exist in society/the world and how I feel about it. I've become more attuned to the experiences I've had and the thoughts that I experience. I'm able to engage better with the things in my conscious reality. The formula enabling this is unknown to me, but it grows from letting whatever needs to come out and be taken seriously. I'm just following my nose over here.
So far, it's a highly personal course, and I have been squeamish at times, but I repeatedly find deep satisfaction in sharing it with everyone. There are people I would like to stay unaware of what I write, but nothing stops them from finding it. All they need to do is search for my name, and they can find it. Thoughts come up and say, "but what about [so-and-so]? They know your website and can share it with [another person] who could really make things oh so very hard for you!" To which I reply, "Thank you very much, but not now. If someone objects to my writing, they should deal with their objections; it is none of my business. My business is to examine myself, my life and discover things. If someone has an issue with my method and attempts to make it my issue (unconstructively), the issue I am facing is how to extricate them from myself. So, happily, I will continue to publish."
I've gotten comments from friends saying that while reading my work, it felt like they were reading someone's diary and were trespassing somehow. First of all, they have been reading my diary (the edited version). And secondly, good. More people should aspire to a similar level of openness. Some moments, it feels like I'm in front of a class in my underwear, but that subsides, and I become increasingly confident in the more hidden parts of myself. But I don't simply share whatever personal this, that, or other I've been working on. Discretion is vital. I've written some things that do not need to see the light of day. Secrets that I cannot share and other ideas that are for myself either because I have yet to discover why I wrote them or they're just bad.
I'm taking shots in the dark here to tell you something about what I write, why I write it, and what to expect. More of this, I suppose, stabbing at something that barely escapes me while coming closer to understanding. This is philosophy, is it not? This is a human responsibility, is it not? I used to think there was something special about philosophers like they had special approval to practice philosophy. Now, I see that it is integral for everyone to engage in their own personal philosophy. If one desires to live fully, become more conscious of the world around them, and make improvements, they need to do this. Others may prefer different mediums for their philosophy, but I write, which I'll continue doing. Even as a child, I thought about this. I thought life is not something we get to live; instead, life is something we must live. If we let it wash over ourselves by not rising to the occasion, there's little to be gotten from life.
This is as much of a box as I'm willing to put my writing in for now. We already live amongst enough boxes. Trust me, I'm a carpenter.