Thursday, 7 January 2010

Diary of an unborn writer #40 - midlife crisis

What perplexes me, he said, is that if there is a state of being that is beyond all change, and I am supposed to working towards that, how come events have such an impact on how I feel day to day and the things that I am able to do?

A comment that someone needs me, a compliment from my manager, a phone call from a girlfriend, a really great piece of writing. These have an impact on how I actually am and what I able to then do. IE the energy from a walk in the forest gives me power to do well at work.

I guess the issue is a lack of trust that there I cannot experience this independent quality and then when I have glimpsed it, it is so delicate that is beyond the reach of every day. That there is not a confidence in THAT in all that I do.

I am so struck that delicacy of this all consuming power, how a whisper can break it, an eyelash remove it from view.

And I deeply long for it and know that longing itself is what keeps it obscure.

Presses down onto the tabletop with his thumb. It goes white and he looks at me straight with the open anguish of a man who does not doubt his words.

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