Sunday, March 13, 2005
Soul Searching
Do any of you ever feel as if you've lost your soul? At times I'm so torn between "proving" myself as a successful writer by getting paid well for what I write. It isn't as if I can't pimp my muse and come up with a marketable piece. I know I can. But my muse weeps and gets so depressed when I do...
I don't know if my conflicts are because I'm an American, or a woman, or part of it's due to my life stage, or where I am in my "career," or what. Everyone wants to feel acknowledgement; I know that. I've been wrestling with this all weekend. I sat and sobbed to my husband for two hours this evening, trying to express it aloud.
He tells me money doesn't matter; my art is what counts. That I have something to say to the world, that I'm special. He asked me (in a kind way) if I just want the "cool kids" to recognize me. I don't think that's it either. I know I hold the respect of people like myself, and that's wonderful. But somehow it seems like as old as I am, as much talent as I have (ok, I'm not Faulkner, but I am able to write well in a wide variety of literary "types"), as much time as I invest in my craft that I should be getting back something...more.
I'm also going through a kind of growing spurt where I've been reflecting on my life and what it means. I get so much support from others and kudos about what all I've survived but I feel like the ONLY thing I've done is to survive -- to simply endure to the end of situations -- and I find myself standing on the far side of child abuse and cancer and the other issues, with no real insight gained. I feel like I should just don a T-shirt saying "I Rode The X Ride of Life and Survived To Tell About It."
I don't expect to make a killing or even a living with my writing. But I ache for more than I'm getting.
Thanks for reading.
-- GHC
I don't know if my conflicts are because I'm an American, or a woman, or part of it's due to my life stage, or where I am in my "career," or what. Everyone wants to feel acknowledgement; I know that. I've been wrestling with this all weekend. I sat and sobbed to my husband for two hours this evening, trying to express it aloud.
He tells me money doesn't matter; my art is what counts. That I have something to say to the world, that I'm special. He asked me (in a kind way) if I just want the "cool kids" to recognize me. I don't think that's it either. I know I hold the respect of people like myself, and that's wonderful. But somehow it seems like as old as I am, as much talent as I have (ok, I'm not Faulkner, but I am able to write well in a wide variety of literary "types"), as much time as I invest in my craft that I should be getting back something...more.
I'm also going through a kind of growing spurt where I've been reflecting on my life and what it means. I get so much support from others and kudos about what all I've survived but I feel like the ONLY thing I've done is to survive -- to simply endure to the end of situations -- and I find myself standing on the far side of child abuse and cancer and the other issues, with no real insight gained. I feel like I should just don a T-shirt saying "I Rode The X Ride of Life and Survived To Tell About It."
I don't expect to make a killing or even a living with my writing. But I ache for more than I'm getting.
Thanks for reading.
-- GHC
Comments:
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Maybe from being there I can grasp what you are saying.
There's a void that lies within you. Nietzsche and
William Blake can provide some hint of solace but they
were themselves like each of us. The quote below often
finds itself below the surface with me.
"Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the
process he does not become a monster. And when you look
long into an abyss, the abyss also looks into you." --
Nietzsche
That abyss is the one you feel inside. I've never seen
it filled in my life. This comes after dying twice in
the walk through now. Died when I was a babe, died
later once because I tried to a stupid method or few to
forget things.
Not proud of where I've been, know it was there and I'm
going forward. For me its become a matter of seeing the
world trying to swallow me up. The challenge is what
keeps you going when it's all you have. Yes, people do
love you and never forget that.
Love can do miracles indeed, but and yes there's always
a but. Simply because these people love you does not
mean they are you. It doesn't mean they'll understand,
or even want to face the issue. Each of us must face it
alone.
Long ago people would tell me I needed to find this it.
Now I look back and wonder if they all thought it was a
sick joke. There is no special or magical it in life,
my apologies if that destroys illusions pointing to
something being there. We each have to find one thing
which helps us carry on.
I've chosen to defy Socrates who says that he who dines
on hope starves. Maybe I continue the hungering but I
know that hope remains. One day I will look around
myself and see my vision realized. Will that end the
hunger? I doubt it. In fact I'm fairly certain you can
say it is what makes us human. We hunger.
Short and sweet? Try not to worry over it because
adversity will always be, so will hope. You can face
anything and do what you want. Forget people who say
it's impossible. That means they have done it before,
it was a difficult task is all.
Excuse my rambling. I'm sorry I can not provide an
answer. That comes from you. Make use of hope if you
want, plenty to go around. I must go, need to write
more and spend time with the folks. Figured after
reading that piece you could do with knowing your not
alone. Gets cold looking at the abyss, try not to stare
into it's eyes.
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There's a void that lies within you. Nietzsche and
William Blake can provide some hint of solace but they
were themselves like each of us. The quote below often
finds itself below the surface with me.
"Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the
process he does not become a monster. And when you look
long into an abyss, the abyss also looks into you." --
Nietzsche
That abyss is the one you feel inside. I've never seen
it filled in my life. This comes after dying twice in
the walk through now. Died when I was a babe, died
later once because I tried to a stupid method or few to
forget things.
Not proud of where I've been, know it was there and I'm
going forward. For me its become a matter of seeing the
world trying to swallow me up. The challenge is what
keeps you going when it's all you have. Yes, people do
love you and never forget that.
Love can do miracles indeed, but and yes there's always
a but. Simply because these people love you does not
mean they are you. It doesn't mean they'll understand,
or even want to face the issue. Each of us must face it
alone.
Long ago people would tell me I needed to find this it.
Now I look back and wonder if they all thought it was a
sick joke. There is no special or magical it in life,
my apologies if that destroys illusions pointing to
something being there. We each have to find one thing
which helps us carry on.
I've chosen to defy Socrates who says that he who dines
on hope starves. Maybe I continue the hungering but I
know that hope remains. One day I will look around
myself and see my vision realized. Will that end the
hunger? I doubt it. In fact I'm fairly certain you can
say it is what makes us human. We hunger.
Short and sweet? Try not to worry over it because
adversity will always be, so will hope. You can face
anything and do what you want. Forget people who say
it's impossible. That means they have done it before,
it was a difficult task is all.
Excuse my rambling. I'm sorry I can not provide an
answer. That comes from you. Make use of hope if you
want, plenty to go around. I must go, need to write
more and spend time with the folks. Figured after
reading that piece you could do with knowing your not
alone. Gets cold looking at the abyss, try not to stare
into it's eyes.
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