Sacred Silence

In my current stage of self-exploration and practice, we (path partners) use the word "story" a lot. It covers everything from the babbling of the monkey mind to the fear of the lizard brain to the personal soundtrack which runs rampant (at least for me) in witness mode.

Everything is an idea, and every idea can lead to a story. It's what I do. If I wrote down every story that enters my head, well, I'd have a lot of writing, though very little time to refine, publish, breath, even experience. Happily, not every thought which passes through my brain has enough pull to be writable.

Though, to be honest, I do have to write down a lot of stuff simply to remember it.

But the point, the practice, is to allow some stories to evaporate. To not write blogs, not make remarks, not personalize every  moment or event. To not dramatize any event. To allow the moment to be what it is, and to only be that moment, not all the rest of the moments of my life.

Is it ironic I am writing a blog about not writing blogs? Obviously, some of "allowing a moment" requires a posting, a writing it out, because I know what I speak is what I need to hear. Or because I really want to discuss it. Because it is an impactful thought, a thought which, if practiced, might bring me happiness. A thought which covers many moments.

There are moments for partying and yelling and screaming and dancing and crying and singing. Definitely moments for advising and teaching and entertaining. But there are also moments for silence. Moments that need no discussion - and in fact, trying to talk about those moments when there's nothing to say brings up all sorts of weird, unrelated, and probably wrong stories. And you're left, I'm left, with the feeling like I just pulled my world down around me and I’m not even sure where the angst came from.

Turns out, I created the angst, the drama. Because I had nothing to say, at the moment when the conversation came around to me. And since I didn't know to say "I'm still processing" (since I didn't even realize it was the truth), the monkey and the lizard and the storyteller and the singer and the mystic, all joined hands and spun a glorious story, attempting to match the deep contemplative state I felt.

And instead of shying away, saying "no thank you", I took that dramatic heavy story and ran with it.

As I said, it's what I do. I see the possibilities, I build worlds. I create stories.

Which means I now get to learn the advanced work of NOT using my skills; of knowing when to allow the silence.

Happily, I worked through the story. I saw it for what it was. It took time and the complete absence of other people, but I found the silence below the smoke screen and had to laugh at myself a little. And give myself a big hug. All that tortured drama, just because I didn't have anything to say, but wanted to join the party. Wanted to exercise my skills. Wanted to be involved.

Interestingly, because I do like to sing and dance and entertain, I really love the silence. The completeness of the moment when there just is. And yeah, being a Doctor Who fan, and a Buffy fan, I had to work a little to not cringe at "the Silence".

But this silence is choice, not infliction. And that does make all the difference. I can be involved in any experience, any moment, just by choosing to be. I can say "I don't have anything to add" and still be in a moment. Even if the moment is hugely story worthy, it might be a story that's only really relevant to me. It might be a story full of moments that can't be voiced.

I am a story teller. It's what I do. But I can walk away from the moment without any additional stories to tell.

I can be silent, and so be true to my voice.

The Idea Trap

Like any writer, I have been asked where the ideas come from.  And really, for me, ideas are easy.  Everything is a story.  Heck, given some of my beliefs, everything could be three stories!

The part that makes writing "work", for me, is the development of the idea, fleshing it out.  Still being interested or curious or passionate enough about the idea -- the next day or week or month -- to actually put some energy into creating with it.

I have 2 file cabinet drawers full of story ideas (obviously, this is pre-lap top) and many other ideas floating around on scraps of paper and in random computer files.   There are over 200 officially logged ideas - ideas neat enough to get names or synopses; and at least 100 more ideas hanging out.   And of those 300 plus ideas, maybe 100 have endings, and maybe 50 are finished.  Not revised, but at least written or broadly outlined.

Actually, that's pretty good, now I think about it.  Pretty good indeed.

This does not include the songs & poems, most of which are finished. That's the nice thing about writing poetry, for me. The flow & the words have to do with the truth of the moment, so there isn't a lot of revision. There's "good" & there's "shudder", but not much revision.

Writing stories includes a lot of revision.  At least for me.  At least right now.  I'm learning.  Elusive Dreams is a quite different story than the original idea #109 - which was actually called Cast of One when it started.  I think I wrote 3 distinctly different stories before everything settled into the book it is now.    As opposed to Not Really a Murder Mystery, which had some rewrites but is recognizably IDEA #68 all grown up.

I thought consistent blogging might actually be a little easier - where easy equals have an idea, write the idea, post the idea. Rather like a research paper, I suppose.  Because blogging isn't even ideas so much as opinions, right?  And I'm the type of person who can have philosophical breakthroughs while washing my hair.  Heck, I could probably do two or three blogs a week, considering how opinionated I become over some things.  Give myself a deadline, sit down at my friendly little keyboard, and type away.  Easy peasy!

And now my blog log is full of half started rants, treatises on driving & commercials, perspectives on relationships and faiths.  And I just don't care.  I mean to say, I still CARE, but I don't feel an emotional connection to the unfinished pieces... At least, not enough of one to continue writing about any of them.  This week alone, I put in three possible subjects, and none of them make me want to take up the torch.  At least not right now, when I expected to be editing so I can meet my deadline.   Right now,  the commercial relationship of faithful humans who drive feels as appealing as mayo on white. ("yum.")

 But isn't that how we get through life?  One idea at a time?  We dream of where and how and who we wish to be and one of those dreams creates a big enough light to stand out from the rest.  So we grasp that idea.  Sometimes we carry that passion to the end, sometimes it peters out and we're left with half-finished projects or another job on our resume.  And so we dreams and grasp again.   And perhaps that's all that matters.  We keep dreaming and keep trying and keep adding up the experiences.  A favorite quote of mine, probably used before, is from Into the Woods: "How do you know what you want 'til you get what you want and you see if you like it?"   And sometimes we only like something for a little while, like only artichoke hearts, and then we lose our taste for it.  That goes for anything, from food to clothes to hobbies to jobs to relationships.

So I'll keep all the ideas on my ideas list, story and blog.  From the modern Beauty and the Beast to the romance trilogy.  I'll keep the story written entirely in accounting entries, and I'll keep the story about the teenage band who secretly run the town while their parents are working at a mysterious government facility.  (l wrote that when I was 14.)  Heck.  There's probably a market for it now.

I'll keep all the ideas on my list, or wherever I have them stashed.  There are so many possibilities in ideas.  Rather like potentials in dreams.  And as a writer, I can see each one of them come true, in any shape I desire.  I can flit from idea to idea until the sparks fly between us.

So sometimes, the question is not, how do I get ideas?  The question is, how do I stop getting ideas long enough to latch on to something I can feel passionate about until the end?

Like this post.

About ideas.

Which is actually finished.

Yay me!

Thank you.  And I hope you have a great day!