As I considered writing this first blog post, I found myself struggling. I sat here in front of the computer for some time trying to decide what I should write and found myself at a loss. Then, a few minutes ago, I decided upon a particular topic and began writing, but something seemed wrong. It was as though everything I wrote was a lie. I could not understand it and so I took out a pen and paper and tried to evaluate what it was that was stopping me.
The first thing that I realized was that I was putting on airs. I even remembered myself sitting a little taller in my chair as if I were going to say something very important, you know the way a person does when they want to impress you or sell you something. That was a disgusting realization. I do intend to sell you a book one day, but it will be the book itself that you will buy and not me. Any book that is not more than its author is not worth reading. As far as this blog goes, I write here because I know that I cannot make further progress without beginning to share what I see. “A poet is not a poet unto himself.” Yet this entity, which tries to impress, still lingers about me and crops up here and there in the most disconcerting ways.
Second, I had to ask myself again why I was doing this and what it was that I wanted to accomplish. Here I discovered the same contradiction. On the one hand, there is a fruit that has been growing on this tree (that’s me – the tree) and which now is so heavy that I must pluck it or it will bring the tree down. In other words, there is a message that I must share. But there is another entity, and he is by far the louder voice, that sees this website as a means to an end. Now of course, I experience both voices as me, but I am becoming more and more convinced that this second voice is an alien entity that means me and you no good.
My third realization was that this “means to an end” mentality was completely faithless. I have chosen at the age of forty to become a writer. I have no prior experience or training or degrees to back me up and I actually believe that I will make a living doing it. The idea that I can “make this happen” is ludicrous. And yet, this other entity is a schemer. He believes that we can make it happen by being smart enough or good enough or by working hard enough. He insists that we must survive by our wits. I have called him “me” for most of my life but I don’t believe that anymore. He tells me now that I need to figure out something more to write and that I haven’t really said anything. Maybe so. In any case, I think I will call it a blog post and come at it afresh tomorrow – or whenever I get to it. God bless you all.