Many years ago, I wrote a love letter to Writing. I dug it up recently, and it’s so terribly maudlin that I refuse to share it lest I destroy my cool image. (Uh, Sonal? You are not cool.) (Shh! Don’t destroy my fantasy!)
But the takeaway is that as lovers go, Writing is a master of unconditional love. And very forgiving. You’ve been ignoring Writing forever? It’s cool. Writing is patient. Writing is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Writing does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth.
Some of you might recognize First Corinthians from many, many weddings.
My tendency, throughout my life, is to come at things as a fight. Sometimes it’s a stupid fight (I have a computer science degree why?) but I have felt for a while that I seem to only accomplish anything when put up against a struggle… except, I am running out of things to struggle against. Except possibly the weird vagaries of my mind.
My therapist suggested perhaps I could come at things from love.
This sounds really great, but I can’t wrap my head around it. What, just do things because you love it? And like, if something is difficult, stop? Really? I mean, I know other people do that, but me? Can I really do that?
I’m not sure how not to make things hard. And I’ve recognized for a while that I don’t want things to always have to be hard. It’s tiring. I need a new model.
Go placidly amid the noise and haste…. some of your might recognize the opening of Desiderata from many, many email chains. Placidly. I have never gone placidly. It’s either a full-tilt charge or draped over a chair in exhaustion. I am the noise and haste.
Placidly always makes me think of cows, but what it is, is tranquility. Serenity now.
I know at some point, I have to come out of this long pause on writing. And maybe I’m delaying this because I keep thinking it has to be the way it was. A struggle. But is there a way to come at it from love? I know other people do that, but me? Can I really do that?
Writing will be waiting patiently for me.
I think we have to get to know each other again differently. Placidly.
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