Lean Beyond the Normal, Opening to the Terror of What Might Happen

What wants to be written? A question that opens beyond the thoughts, into the beyond.

The strange power of poetry, that takes us beyond the prose, into the beyond.

The container of a habit, creating the structure that – strangely – is necessary for the beyond.

And, after nine years, slipping away.

The temptation for postponement, again. The necessity for space.

For repair.

For relaxing.

For the wave to return to the sea, surrendering into the wide, deep, ocean, before its next charge up the sand.

Each time we take charge up the beach, things change.

Each time we lean beyond the normal, opening ourselves to the terror of what might happen.

The terror of exposure, feedback, criticism, indifference.

The sharpness of our social pains.

And yet… what is a life without adventure?

Without another rolling charge up the sand, before our retreat back into the great ocean.

Back on a train, where it all began.

The sounds of this strange vehicle rolling along its rails.

Combined with this strange creature, creating something from nothing in words.

That combination, now forever a part of my biography. 

The temptation, as the gap in the habit spreads and spreads, to let go.

But… not today. 

Not this time.

Like every hero, at some point in the journey temptation will come.

The sirens calling to give up.

But not this time.

Knowing when to quit matters. But so does knowing when to hold things together.

To step once more to the breach.

Facing the fears and Resistance.

Opening up that gap, once again, between ‘it might work’ and ‘it might not work’.

It gets easier, over eight and a half years.

And still, writing this one – the temptations to give up. To delete the text and say ‘I’ll do it another day’.

So many reasons.

Children singing.

Train delays.

And always the choice: do I show up anyway, despite the imperfection?

Or do I let the gap grow?

Do I recommit? Or not?

The temptations to let go of everything that holds me together, making me me.

To drift into dust, into billions of particles.

It would seem so much easier.

But nobody said this was supposed to be easy.

Not everything is here for ease.

Sometimes the job is to hold those particles together for one more day.

Open the laptop.

Breathe through the distractions.

And write.

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This is the latest in a series of articles written using the 12-Minute Method: write for twelve minutes, proof read once with tiny edits and then post online.

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Robbie SwaleComment