January 24, 2010 § Leave a comment
I am a thinking person. I think, and I analyze. I remember, and I honor the experiences that have made me who I am. I wonder, and I hypothesize what could have been — had the past been something different. And throughout my thinking days, I write my thoughts down, to record them. It’s something I’ve done since my father died, a way for me to cope with life and living it. It’s always helped me see myself more clearly.
A few months ago, I wrote the post, “For Fear of Losing.” Since writing that short piece, I’ve had a hard time writing on anything. Maybe because I put so much of myself out there on that one, and it’s taken me a while to even get back here, in front of a blank screen, ready to think through words. To think aloud.
Sometimes, it’s difficult to write when it means so much to you. The very act of putting words onto this screen is a sacred act of creation, of acknowledgment, of revelation. Sometimes, when I don’t write, it’s because I don’t want to think. It’s because I’m afraid of the points of realization that always seem to rise out of my writing.
I guess, sometimes, you don’t want to learn about yourself. You just want to turn off, and I think that’s what I’ve been doing, in some sense, during the last two months. The last two post-less, diary-less, record-less, thoughtless months in my life. When I just let myself turn off for a while, and just feel things for what they are, not for what I think they are, or what I remember them to be.
I was in the moment these last few months, with my family and friends, feeling life in the way most people feel it — in drips and floods, in a trajectory that only flows forward. On the other hand, a thinker moves freely through space and time, reality and make-believe. But that freedom can be like a prison, a heaviness I can’t escape. But maybe I’m done with running without ever stopping to wonder.
After this vacation from thought, I believe that I’m ready to start learning again.