Things

Fear is so irrational. I wonder if it is something you can’t really explain to someone if they aren’t afraid of the same thing…it makes no sense to them, they have to take it on faith.

I mean, what the hell was that yesterday when I was trying to get down to writing about some real stuff? I was acting like my dog when she really doesn’t want to be caught, really doesn’t want that bath—anything but this--like it was some kind of torture. It’s irrational.

I want to write about real stuff, I know how to organize information and get started on a writing project, so, why so scary? Why the distractions and the having to force myself to stay in this room until I got something started? Why the ridiculous antics?

Because it’s my thing.

We all have a thing. Whether we know it or not, we all have an irrational problem it would be so easy for someone else to solve, but we can’t seem to quite get on top of it. It’s the overweight person who just needs to move more and eat less—it’s so easy, so simple, why can’t they just put the fork down and take the stairs? It’s the addict who only has to keep from reaching for that bottle, it’s that super-successful person who doesn’t know what to do when he’s off-work.

So…overcoming this work issue, getting connected to my creativity and dealing with my bunk so I can write about the stuff I need to write about is definitely my thing. The fear and other barriers to it are the hardest things for me to face.

That’s where I have to go, right to that pain. I'm afraid it’s the only way forward. I realize it sounds stupid, if not sadistic, to go where you feel the most pain, but…You want to be full and healthy and live a deeper better life? You need some truth to go on? You want to overcome? Go find your pain and stay there awhile, it will tell you some truth.

It’s absolutely counter intuitive and the last thing we want to do, but I don’t think there’s any other way. No three-steps, no formula, no belief system is going to help us skirt it…it’s still just going to be there, our thing, staring us in the face. For me, there’s no re-doubling my efforts and putting together a fluffy research article that any old person can do. I could do it, and maybe even sell it, but I wouldn’t feel a thing and it wouldn’t be real. No, I have to sit, stick it out, focus and deal with the expectations, the insecurity about my potential, and the fear that I won’t pull out my real self and show up every damn day.

That’s the part that takes courage--the “every damn day” part.

People think courage is rushing into a burning building to save someone—and it is. But what I’m talking about is courage too; maybe it’s a different kind. It’s that decision to really live life every day instead of using easy mechanisms to skate through it.

We all have these mechanisms--charm, busyness, entertainment, television, accomplishment—stuff we’re good at or buzzes to get us through and make us feel okay. I think it’s absolutely heroic not to use them. It’s also hard as hell. It takes incredible courage to instead decide feeling some pain is better than not feeling and just surviving.

I’m not saying we live in the pain all the time…we all get to decide our pain threshold. I’m a big believer in a couple of Advil, some ice cream and a little TV when I’m dealing with a headache. I’ll also toss aside the writing for a big, fat breakfast some mornings when it's just too hard. But maybe we should forego the preemptive Advil, the one we pop daily because we’re afraid we might feel a twinge if we take a hard look at life.

Well, maybe not, maybe some of us need morphine, maybe life is too much—I don’t want to judge. Most of us won’t feel pain unless we’re forced to anyway.

So I might be wrong, and I’ll accept this might just be true for me, but don’t we all want more life? Don’t most of us need to admit the skating isn’t really working for us?

I think it’s built-in. I think we’re supposed to want life to be deeper and richer, and I think we’re supposed to feel the wanting--It pushes us to greatness and forces us to hope. We need to hope there is more to life and pain has a purpose. That’s how it works…at least for me. It’s the only way I can see to live real.

And when I see someone else doing it--showing up every damn day, facing and feeling their pain--I feel so proud and inspired.

It’s something you almost never get to see.