Just do it! Nike has not been right about much recently. But, their old motto still rings true. Been asking myself every night now for while why I don’t just sit down and write a few lines here. My last post is a couple of months old. I came to a couple of great reasons.
One of my recent reads has been Karl Ove Knausgaard’s six volume epic “My Struggle”; have finished two and made it to about middle of the third book before took a break from it. They call the genre many different names; to me it is about honestly on massive doses of steroid–no self censorship whatsoever. Since it is his own life story, this extreme honestly makes it hard to imagine as a style of writing that comes easily, and yet it is so powerful that once you do read it you do not want to read much else–at least for a while–till the effects have worn off a bit. It is limitless courage and also lack of care for what anyone else might think–especially those he cares most about; his own close family members. In a way this is the sort of abandonment Siddhārtha Gautama committed when he left his young wife and newborn child (if it is true). He chose to get on the road and eventually became the Buddha. Siddhārtha committed the ultimate act of selfishness. He left a young wife and a child to go pursue his own ends. That road led him eventually to Nirvana. Knausgaard’s extreme honestly sacrifices his connections and some of his love, if not all, to pursue his own need to write as he did. It is an ironic act of honestly to pursue one’s own chosen path even if along with your own nakedness you also bare souls of others.
Once I decided to write that way I stopped writing. I considered what it means to bare your soul in extreme honesty. I could not do it, and at least thus far have not been able to. For most of us, this level of self exposure and vulnerability is not even something we can show in our private diaries. I hope I can get there, because I can see how amazingly liberating it might be. Whether it makes good writing, as always, depends on the writer. Not everyone can be Proust. But many can try.
Anyway, I did not start this blog for any particular reason except to write; something–here is “something”; even if it is about why I have been unable to bring myself to write for a while.
As for the other reason I have not been writing; just the same old procrastinating lazy haze of watching time pass with what we think is more important than simply “being here”–work; chores; more work; and …at this rate any life will eventually come to an end.