Day 475: From Me-To-Write-a-Book to Reunifying Self and Purpose
Redefining the word Writing (Part 4)
From the lock-in of Me-To-Write-a-Book to Reunifying Self and Purpose
In redefining Writing what is opening up for me now… in looking at that point of stuckness… is seeing that stuckness as a form of bondage… because something that I find now is the literal bonds between the words Me-To-Write-a-Book, and me defined within them and by them, so that as I approach the writing what I am experiencing is myself in a state of bondage. So continuing from the previous writing, in which the feelings of ‘Trespass’ and ‘Breech of Contract’ came up in connection to stuckness and bondage, I am looking now at the bonds between these words as they exist within me, within the words: Me-To-Write-a-Book.
And it is now becoming clear that I must separate this amalgamation into its constituents: of Write, and Book, so that in doing so I can make ‘Write yourself to Freedom’ a reality. In this process I must look into the nature of that ‘Breech of Contract’, that straining of the bonds I experienced as a sense of insecurity within and around the word Write as I prepared myself to live the word in action. Perhaps as groups of words become locked together and their single function becomes a habitual self-manipulation, then gradually the words become refined in a way into a feeling, into a subtle waft of energy. It was looking into that ‘waft of energy’ that led me into this.
So in this part I go into the story of how for me the word Write was close to heart, and how I felt I needed to protect it. What was the meaning of the words I held so close within me: Me-To-Write-A-Book? I feel my way towards this early definition – because I want to look more closely at it – at what I placed within these words – what was the context in those days of how I lived out Write, who I was within the word, that still effects me and therefore still is present? How originally did I lay this out, what did it mean to me as a child, intimately within these words, Me-To-Write-A-Book, within my heart, and for my heart, and from my heart?
How can I describe the contents of this phrase, this joined up word-form? Certainly I kept it close to my heart, I protected it, and me within it; I could not afford this part of me to get defined or judged by those around me. And so, ‘dear to my heart’ were other words I lived in connection to the word-form Me-To-Write-A-Book: it is like a word of an intimate language of self, functioning in the process of my life as a single word. What was happening within myself within and as this phrase of words? It was like the moment of the opening of my heart that must and had to be protected, and being so ardently protected, it soon became closed off to me.
How had I defined this ‘Book’? As with the projection of a dreamer, both seeing not and yet obliged to see some form; as a child I focused on a solution I could hardly face, and yet not wholly turn away from – a pictured image of a book that I had written in the future – as evidence of my authorship, of my self authority. And so seeing not while at the same time obliged to see, I kept the imaged or symbolic version close to me. I cherished it, and cherishing, and living Cherish, and the experience of cherish became intertwined with Me-To-Write-A-Book: and Me-To-Write-A-Book became within me like a single word. It had a sort of imminence, not as an impending evil, but simply as a potential to be. Looking at it now I see how the experience of Cherished and of Potentiality might together become as an addiction.
What was the experience that I lived in Cherish; that something dear to me was such a comfort, that I held on to that experience of being loved? What was at the heart of that life-so-dear, was that life of me. That relationship is reflected in the word Convey (Day 472) – that had for me a physical urgency – that on the surface level manifested in my conscious mind in phrases like, ‘There is so much more to this,’ ‘The point of Life is being missed,’ ‘I must show by any means I can that there is life beneath this matrix, ‘That there is a danger of this life within being overwhelmed and trampled by the system by the march of progress…’ And yet what I could not see at the time was how much these words reflected that bondage that I cherished.
And there was a sort of triumphant spirit that I embodied in validating such perceptions of the world, in which I could utilize the urgency of Convey and commit my life path into action as a painter as an artist, and yet I did not question what exactly honestly was the nature of this triumph, of this exuberance. It is one of the effects of redefining words that those old stories of your life can suddenly open up an entirely different interpretation. There are points in which you see how rather than living words, the words as you have accepted and allowed them, have in a way been living you.
It was like I had suddenly committed to a belief that I could with a hop and a skip and a jump leap over this lock-down of the Me-To-Write-A-Book amalgamation – in which I was trapped and yet which I also held so dear – not with ‘Book’ as my written out articulation of the life that I experienced as ‘me’, as I am now beginning to redefine it, but ‘Book’ as representing that Authority that I had separated from, that Authority that seemed to oppress me, an image of my vulnerability to that authority and judgement and definition by others – that word Authority that was essentially living me. So in jumping over all of that in triumph to practice as an artist, I could celebrate yes the fact that life existed, while at the same time leave the book as closed – as an image in my mind – while that articulation of the life of me, remained within the bond, unknown to me.
Me-to-Write-a-Book, with a ‘Book’ as…with a scary definition of ’Authority’, as a field of harshness, in which I would fear experiencing vulnerability; within a field of judgement, experiencing my willingness to be defined by others, my willingness to be defined by labels, other people’s assertions of their own realities, experiencing my own judgement of myself, on seeing myself within and as such willingness… to be shaped, to be limited… these would be like the first pages of the book had I dared to open it, all those lies and self deceits that I had accepted and allowed within the word Authority. And within all of that what about my own authority as me, as the author of my book of life, as the one in the act of writing; in the harshness of this field I would experience myself resigning to the fact of there being apparently very little room for that. And so in the stuckness of the writing I would also suppress the experience of myself as angry to be living in another’s world and not my own.
I look at now how within my life I reacted to the question posed by the formulation of Me-To-Write-A-Book: such as me to write a book, or not? And what I see in relation to this, is the fact that in my life what I did was to postpone, though a million times it must have risen up as a question – to carry through, or not to carry through – and the question also: Is this that I am writing/busy with here the fulfillment of that impulse, of myself? And now also, ‘Would it be enough to deconstruct all this – in terms of being fulfilled – would I be content? And does in fact this question still remain in me?
How was I within myself towards the fact of being unable to commit, was it that I was resigned to the mystery of this apparent lack within my nature, believing that somehow I would get by, resigned before a judgement of myself, that I did not have this thing, that would make commitment possible? And as I write this question out what I see is that it was not really ‘that I did not have it in me’ to commit; it was that I already was committed – to an impossibility – of standing in front of a door, waiting through my life for it to open, while at the same time being the door itself, devoted to being closed.
It was not that I could see the impossibility of the situation, and how it was that I was trapped in this commitment. Over and over again I would justify myself within, ‘This is not the time’, ‘What I am doing now is not It’, and, ‘Maybe later, when I get the chance…’ and within these excuses also lay the statement, ‘What I am doing now is not good enough for me’, What I am doing now is somehow just a side event in the thrust of my life, in relation to my heart’s desire’, and ‘I have patience, I can be and can become this patience, but how I live within and as Convey will be eventually fulfilled…’
It seems like a leap here – into the phase of redefinition: what is happening is that reading through this written work I am amazed at how much of me is being discovered, opened up, and my thoughts go into the question of what then of the self within all this; that push within convey, that solution that once so long ago I saw for me in words, that self that now has movement in it, purpose, and something that I realise in this new experience is a unity of purpose with myself. How did I get from redefining Writing to seeing so clearly in these moments how I had separated this experience of me as me from this word Purpose?
As the redefining process opens for a word, as a word is changed, released, forgiven, it takes on for me an imminent quality, that awakening of potential, and these changes spread into connected words, in the redefining of words, one’s living through these words, the words begin to loosen up, those restrictions to their meanings start letting go, there is the transition from seeing how they have been and are defined, towards seeing how they might be redefined and what points lay behind those definitions; it is in this transition from those bonded definitions that for me this sense of imminence opens up, becoming intimations rising up in me, becoming like a tide of realization. As I redefine the words that I’ve been living in each of them that rising gathers imminence, that specifying potential of a word gradually by steps and changes getting free to be entirely in and of this world of me.
Of the significance of the process of Redefining Words, and of Writing Self to Freedom: that Significance must also come to Life, to the actual thumping of one’s Heart, like Holy Shit this really is the key, like Holy Shit that job of living me, that crucial job that I had forgotten all about in my retirement from the world of me: never before have I seen Self and Purpose as aspects of each other, never before have I experienced this point as real, as vital.
continuing next post…..