Long time since I've posted anything, something of a long time since I've written anything. This prompts the question of who would have any interest in reading what I have to write. My brother gave me a good suggestion, thinking about writing for my daughters. While I try to be open with them about a lot of things, there are some things I keep to myself, and even more that I just do not have the time or occasion or expression to share. At the very least, what I write might be useful for them to have, even though I suspect even if they have it they are probably not likely to read it, after all how many go through all of the family photos except once in a blue moon, but in their lives they are likely to have a blue moon once and again.
Of course, that makes me think it's probably best to have some backup set up in case Google gets tired of this blogspot abandonware or gives some opt-in prompt that I neglect in my old age, consigning my words to oblivion.
Anyways, that is the minimum, I have two intelligent and curious little girls, and whether or not they read my words having the words would be a comfort, and it might be a discomfort for them to think that I stopped writing around the time I had them (the timelines do not line up for that, in fact my last post was before I met their mother, but people have a way of overlooking blurry timelines in these type of things, although I hope that is something I can teach them to avoid). So there is that minimum. And perhaps there are more that might enjoy my words, perhaps, perhaps, perhaps... (I want to say that is from some British sitcom but I can't recall the name, maybe Coupling?)
Why I stopped or at least paused my writing? Many reasons, if I'm honest sloth is among them, fear of writing something bad, fear my creativity might be gone, apathy, feeling that my writing is worthless (so rather than giving up my writing for the sake of my kids, my kids have given me a counteraction against one of my hindrances, and yes kids, I expect you to learn all of those big words), questioning my place in the big scheme of things. None of that is especially new (well me not writing is not especially new at this point).
Perhaps what it is, and there is a little supporting evidence of this, is at the time of my life when I decided to get serious about being married, I decided to put focus on the rituals, procedures, and habits necessary to help me find a wife. I can go into this more a different day, but much of this rubbed against my anxieties, social and otherwise, and it took a considerable mental effort to push on this.
Essentially, to make it short, making a concerted effort to find a wife was stressful for me.
This is also why I resigned as a member of the national board of the MCYM, despite that being one of my preferred social and to some degree creative outlets (more on that a different day, in fact pretty much all of these sentences could be fleshed out into a paragraph or two, but I have promises to keep...), the stress of the obligations of my duties as a national board member (which perhaps I took too seriously) was a weight that I knew would be difficult to me to bear in addition to these new stresses.
While I did not make a decision to stop writing them, that stress did decrease my output (although it would be interesting to go into my notebooks and to see to what degree at what point, of course for that be accurate I would need dates on everything which I don't have). Then the stress of marriage, married life, eventually parenthood, all vital things I wanted in my life, these did not directly work against me writing but what they did do is leave less energy to fight against the old fears and anxieties associated with writing, which as always grew the longer I stayed away from writing. While this can be looked at as some unfortunate accident, I do remember at times reflecting on the trade-off between the married/fatherly life I was pursuing and the effort needed to sustain me as a writer, ultimately I made a choice. Not a choice to stop writing, but a choice to pursue the family life I wanted and believed was a vital part of my life's vocation, even if my writing life suffered.
I made a choice and I still believe it was the correct one. I look at my wife and my girls, and we have built something beautiful together, something blessed by God and sacred.
There's some simplification there, and so other factors that I know played a role, but I think this assessment is true enough to let it stand.
This leads me to say, there is no reason why I shouldn't write now, although it shouldn't be at the expense of this life I have built, if the two do not work against each other, why not write? (From the assessment above, you might say well it sounds like they do work against each other, but the relationship between different responsibilities, hobbies, duties and stress is more complex and subtle than that, they will sometimes work against each other, sometimes they will help each other, and sometimes each must be given a certain amount due, and sometimes some must be pushed to the background)
And it is worth coming back to the minimum reasons for me to write, in addition to my girls, there is a certain feeling of sacred duty to God. I often think of the story of the king who gave his servants different sums of money to invest, God has given me some talents of creativeness and some tendency toward writing, and so I ought to use it if I can, and share it if I can. God has given me other blessings more precious to me in the form of my family, and that sacred duty comes first. But if the clouds of my anxiety and the mysterious inner workings of my mind align just right, so that writing is possible without the neglect of family, then I ought take the chance, and I think that it is God's will for me to do so.
More could be written about this, but time conspires against me here. I do have other duties related to my family life (to be less vague, I have to do my job), while I have taken time away from that to write this, in some ways writing has cleared my mind more to help me tackle those duties. If I used that as an excuse to spend all my time away from my work, it would be counter-productive, and so I must set a limit and come to an end. (Although the story never ends...)
Anywho, take it to your head, take it to your heart, and remember Rand rocks. Goodnight Folks!
And God Bless.
Of course, that makes me think it's probably best to have some backup set up in case Google gets tired of this blogspot abandonware or gives some opt-in prompt that I neglect in my old age, consigning my words to oblivion.
Anyways, that is the minimum, I have two intelligent and curious little girls, and whether or not they read my words having the words would be a comfort, and it might be a discomfort for them to think that I stopped writing around the time I had them (the timelines do not line up for that, in fact my last post was before I met their mother, but people have a way of overlooking blurry timelines in these type of things, although I hope that is something I can teach them to avoid). So there is that minimum. And perhaps there are more that might enjoy my words, perhaps, perhaps, perhaps... (I want to say that is from some British sitcom but I can't recall the name, maybe Coupling?)
Why I stopped or at least paused my writing? Many reasons, if I'm honest sloth is among them, fear of writing something bad, fear my creativity might be gone, apathy, feeling that my writing is worthless (so rather than giving up my writing for the sake of my kids, my kids have given me a counteraction against one of my hindrances, and yes kids, I expect you to learn all of those big words), questioning my place in the big scheme of things. None of that is especially new (well me not writing is not especially new at this point).
Perhaps what it is, and there is a little supporting evidence of this, is at the time of my life when I decided to get serious about being married, I decided to put focus on the rituals, procedures, and habits necessary to help me find a wife. I can go into this more a different day, but much of this rubbed against my anxieties, social and otherwise, and it took a considerable mental effort to push on this.
Essentially, to make it short, making a concerted effort to find a wife was stressful for me.
This is also why I resigned as a member of the national board of the MCYM, despite that being one of my preferred social and to some degree creative outlets (more on that a different day, in fact pretty much all of these sentences could be fleshed out into a paragraph or two, but I have promises to keep...), the stress of the obligations of my duties as a national board member (which perhaps I took too seriously) was a weight that I knew would be difficult to me to bear in addition to these new stresses.
While I did not make a decision to stop writing them, that stress did decrease my output (although it would be interesting to go into my notebooks and to see to what degree at what point, of course for that be accurate I would need dates on everything which I don't have). Then the stress of marriage, married life, eventually parenthood, all vital things I wanted in my life, these did not directly work against me writing but what they did do is leave less energy to fight against the old fears and anxieties associated with writing, which as always grew the longer I stayed away from writing. While this can be looked at as some unfortunate accident, I do remember at times reflecting on the trade-off between the married/fatherly life I was pursuing and the effort needed to sustain me as a writer, ultimately I made a choice. Not a choice to stop writing, but a choice to pursue the family life I wanted and believed was a vital part of my life's vocation, even if my writing life suffered.
I made a choice and I still believe it was the correct one. I look at my wife and my girls, and we have built something beautiful together, something blessed by God and sacred.
There's some simplification there, and so other factors that I know played a role, but I think this assessment is true enough to let it stand.
This leads me to say, there is no reason why I shouldn't write now, although it shouldn't be at the expense of this life I have built, if the two do not work against each other, why not write? (From the assessment above, you might say well it sounds like they do work against each other, but the relationship between different responsibilities, hobbies, duties and stress is more complex and subtle than that, they will sometimes work against each other, sometimes they will help each other, and sometimes each must be given a certain amount due, and sometimes some must be pushed to the background)
And it is worth coming back to the minimum reasons for me to write, in addition to my girls, there is a certain feeling of sacred duty to God. I often think of the story of the king who gave his servants different sums of money to invest, God has given me some talents of creativeness and some tendency toward writing, and so I ought to use it if I can, and share it if I can. God has given me other blessings more precious to me in the form of my family, and that sacred duty comes first. But if the clouds of my anxiety and the mysterious inner workings of my mind align just right, so that writing is possible without the neglect of family, then I ought take the chance, and I think that it is God's will for me to do so.
More could be written about this, but time conspires against me here. I do have other duties related to my family life (to be less vague, I have to do my job), while I have taken time away from that to write this, in some ways writing has cleared my mind more to help me tackle those duties. If I used that as an excuse to spend all my time away from my work, it would be counter-productive, and so I must set a limit and come to an end. (Although the story never ends...)
Anywho, take it to your head, take it to your heart, and remember Rand rocks. Goodnight Folks!
And God Bless.
