Thursday, June 19, 2008

Take it away, Jack

In his short essay "Essentials of Spontaneous Prose", Kerouac wrote: "Not 'selectivity' of expression but following free deviation (association) of mind into limitless blow-on-subject seas of thoughts, swimming in sea of English with no discipline other than rhythms of rhetorical exhalation and expostulated statement, like a fist coming down on a table with each complete utterance, bang!...

Never afterthink to 'improve' or defray impressions...the best writing is always the most painful personal wrung-out tossed from cradle-warm protective mind."

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I tend to write exactly like I talk, which has an offbeat rhythm anyway; and that added to the fact that a whole four and a half people have ever even looked at this blog make me feel confident in letting a stream of consciousness flow without even previewing what I wrote before "publishing" these bursts of Lindsey for the world.

Perspective has been on my mind a lot lately. To an extent, we walk around each day with a certain, somewhat fixed perspective. That pertains to life, how we treat people, how we treat ourselves, what we choose to get anxious about, etc. My perspective, like most, is usually that this day is all I have right now, and there are things that I have to get done, or else, God forbid, I'll let someone else down. College students, I've realized, have this insane way of always being really busy, and this applies equally to people who work part-time, go to school full-time, and have some other extra-curricular going on as it does to the person who goes to school and volunteers sometimes, and the rest of the time, is slowly doing homework, or wandering, or just hanging out, as kids our age are allowed to do.

When I am reminded, and it happens maybe once a week, that this life isn't all there is, I am usually brought to my knees in one or the other. The concept of heaven aside, I absolutely believe that this existence is a beautiful, heart broken, vulnerable, joyous, and grief stricken and, that most of all, it matters. How we treat others, how we contribute one small verse to the greater play and bring about the tiniest bit of green in a world gone horribly wrong, yet still streaked with love; is something worth worrying about and keeping in perspective. And those manifest themselves in small acts, sure, but the bigger picture is always enough of a push to go an extra mile or two.

Travel. Art. Talking. Walking around. Taking out the ear phones. Reading. Listening.  All of these are ways of engaging in a culture whose life blood seems to be isolation. As a friend of mine said not that long ago, people really do want to talk about how their day is going, or what they are thinking of or worried about, or what they are thankful for that morning. You're probably not the only one. I'm definitely not the only one. 

Anytime that someone can assure me that I'm not the only person on this planet who feels the way I do when I talk about my aspirations for the future, and how I am worried about the degree of respect that will follow, a huge weight is lifted off of my shoulders. Perspective is gained when engagement happens, and I feel like all of those mechanisms toward reaching that end goal (calling out to something bigger, talking to each other, observing...) are so insanely human that it's absolutely ridiculous to pretend that it's not. At the end of the day, or this amazing life, if I have not made the sincere effort to step into someone else's shoes and engage to the point that our souls are capable, then I'm not sure that a lot of the other stuff will matter. Religious conviction (toxic?) aside, engagement with fellow humans who all giggle when Christopher Walken is in a hot tub, cry during weddings, and have a secret fetish for funfetti cake as well...is the point. 

I'm whelmed over the brim, not gonna lie. Blog is a funny word. 

Lindsey


1 comment:

Becky said...

Five and a half.