So aside from the usual excuses blogger's make about the huge gaps in time between blogs, I'm sticking with the honest one - writer's block.
It's been hard for me to write lately. It's not just the exhaustion and my related attempts to learn about resting, although that certainly contributes.
I have things to write about but the words just seem stuck. I used to think of writer's block as a monolithic mystery - but now I'm thinking I have a specific kind of writer's block.
It's the kind of writer's block that comes from wanting to like what I write.
I do. I really want to like it. I want it to do justice to the ideas. Sure I want other people to like it too...but right now it's more about my own sense of not being able to articulate or communicate ideas in any sort of beautiful way.
Even as I'm typing this my inner critic is telling me that this is a boring, overly specific, and slightly self-indulgent post that gives the impression I must fancy myself as some kind of writer, when in reality...
...sorry. Sometimes I find I can manage that inner critic best if I just put it on paper and be honest about it.
Maybe we all experience some form of writer's block in our lives, even if we're not "writing" in the classical sense. We are all telling a story in some sense. We are creating a narrative with our lives. Even in the mundane "small" decisions of life, we are telling a story, we are authors (probably co-authors) in some mysterious way: of the story of our life.
And maybe a lot of us get blocked in our daily lives in the same way I've been getting writer's block.
It feels like the way our lives are going is far less than perfect, far less beautiful, or strategic, or goal-accomplishing than we would like. And maybe the temptation is to stop writing. To stare blankly at the screen. To avoid the computer altogether. To opt out of authoring. Even to opt out of authoring our lives.
You've probably seen it in others if you haven't experienced it in yourself. It's that cold but subtle despair that tempts us to just cruise, just survive, and let life pass by instead of actively participating in our own stories.
My very wise brother once told a crowd that our stories really don't mean much until the point they intersect with the bigger story of God. The story that God is actively involved in redeeming and restoring our world.
So that's just our problem isn't it? We're trying to make our stories mean something by our own efforts. I'm trying to write something good. You're trying to write a life that lives up to your expectations of who you're suppose to be. All of us trying to live up to some imaginary standard that we think will gives us value, meaning, and significance.
But my writing, my life, your life, they are not "good", or "meaningful", or even "beautiful" because we reach our own or others' expectations. They are of importance in so far as they intersect that bigger story unfolding in the universe if only we have eyes to see it.
Boring post? Maybe. Inadequate expression of the content? Perhaps.
But to the degree that I write intersecting with God's story, it is beautiful, meaningful, and good.
Hmmm. Not feeling so blocked anymore.
