I
clearly remember the trepidation I felt as one of my first newspaper articles
with a philosophical-theological angle was published. Living in a small town
where so many people know each other, I was a bit edgy about what others would
think about my views and my diverse assimilation of various spiritual
traditions and paths.
As
it turns out, in some sense, we are what we write. Someone once said that all
writing is autobiographical. No
matter what we write, whether it is fiction or non-fiction, short stories,
novels, newspaper articles or poetry, it all expresses something of who we are
and what we believe or conversely don't believe. Even if the presentation of
the subject is in apparently amoral or sociopathic terms, it still reflects how
we think.
So
then, what propels us to write, to cross this chasm of scrutiny and public
judgment? Are we imparted with the desire to express the paradox, wonder, and
musings of what our world appears to be?
George
Steiner, in his "Lessons of the Masters," points out that all writing
is "didactic," that is it intends to teach. It is claimed that as
writers we should not moralize in our fiction, nor be so calculating as to
write with an express purpose to change an individual's view through a story. In
reality, how can we but not subtly lend influence with our own views and
values?
Steiner
goes on to insist, "The pulse of teaching is persuasion. The teacher
solicits attention, agreement, and, optimally collaborative dissent. He or she
invites trust..." As writers we imbue our pieces with the trust that we
will be read with an open mind and friendly spirit. This may or may not actually
happen. Of course, only if trust is reciprocal, is there actually a
"teaching moment" or the possibility of the exchange of ideas,
visions and reflections with the reader.
Is
this then truly the yearning for many writers, to take the myriad of possible
connections of letters, words and sounds to create an experience that invites,
instructs, inspires, provokes and invites comparison and assimilation?
Additionally,
Steiner surmises that, "To teach greatly is to awaken doubts in the pupil,
to train for dissent. It is to school the disciple for departure ("Now
leave me" commands Zarathustra). A valid Master should, at the close, be
alone."
As
we put forward our written words, we may be challenged, ignored, misunderstood
or contradicted. But in so doing, we have communicated, given voice to that
which is within, which is at one and the same time individual and communal. Writing always entails a
risk, an inherent nakedness of our personhood, of our visions. Our exposure is
in a form that in many ways we are unable to modulate or personally mentor.
We
cannot see the eyes of those with whom we communicate; we cannot notice their
change in facial expression or tone of voice as our words come to them. We are
not able to explain or correct their interpretation of what we have said. Our
words written on the piece of paper or screen live separate from us, but always
intimately connected.
This
brings me around to my use of the word foible
in my last blog post...Foible means, "an odd feature or mild failing
in a person's character. In fencing it is the weaker part of a sword blade
between the middle and the point."
So
if we are to wield our "swords," to grab them by the hilt and use the
blade for effective action, we will take our abilities, characteristics, visions,
talents, vocations and skills and put them to use. Whether it is by writing or
many other of our endeavors, we would be wise to be aware of the weaknesses and foibles, within all of
our strengths and abilities.
That
which we are best at, that which we excel at or pride ourselves in, in some ways
has faults, mild failings within it. These foibles can result in unskillful
actions, failures or blindness. But by choosing to act, to take up the sword,
we will express our talents, strengths and abilities and so too the faults that
are a part of us.
So
if you find yourself a bit intimidated about writing for all to see, you can be
"confident" that parts of yourself will shine through in your
writing. In sharing your common humanity and the unique expression of yourself,
what you write will be a gifted presentation with an invitation to trust and be
persuaded. It will also contain the subtleties of your foibles. Your writing
amazingly will have its own life, separate from your intentions, as it is
assimilated by individuals with wide variations of experiences and world-views.
