The Writer's Double Self

I finished reading Walden (on schedule!) and was (mostly) prepared for class discussion last night. Among many things, we discussed Thoreau's awareness of himself as a writer in the book. On the first page, for example, he explains that he will be using the first-person "I" in the book, rather than the (sort of) anonymous first person. Later in the book, in the chapter called "Solitude," he talks about a deeper awareness of a separate self, a detachment in his life as he "watches" himself with a writer's eye. He says,

"I am sensible of a certain doubleness by which I can stand as remote from myself as from another. However intense my experience, I am conscious of the presence and criticism of a part of me, which, as it were, is not a part of me, but spectator, sharing no experience, but taking note of it; and that is no more I than it is you."

Most of the students in the class are in the same writing program that I am in, but there are a couple of non-writers in the class, and one of the non-writers asked if all writers feel that way. The question was tossed around a bit among the writer-types, and then the discussion moved on to other things.

But I sat there remembering myself as a 4-year-old on the beach in Morro Bay. I can picture this so vividly. I was there with my brother, my mother, and one of her friends. We were on the small beach near the intake vents for the PG&E power plant. I was walking along the beach, looking at small stones and shells, talking to myself, and what I was saying was a third-person narration of my actions. "She looked at that rock, and then she walked over closer to the water, and then..." Or something like that. I have a conscious memory of many such narrations that I spoke--aloud or in my head--as I went through childhood. My mother overheard me and asked what I was saying, and I had no idea how to explain it to her--I just knew that it was something I liked to do. But I couldn't articulate that at 4, so I just shrugged my shoulders and kept walking along by myself, talking inside my head.

I don't know if all writers have that sense of double self, but I know that I do, at least some of the time.

I Want to be a Shovel When I Grow Up

I was reading this morning in the Book of Mormon, in one of the chapters that quotes Isaiah:

"And he hath made my mouth like a sharp sword; in the shadow of his hand hath he hid me, and made me like a polished shaft..." (1 Nephi 21:2 or Isaiah 49:2)

Isaiah says that Christ has helped him to speak (and write) clearly; Isaiah's words, because of Christ, divide truth from error. What could my mouth be like? It seems presumptuous to want my mouth to be like a sword; that seems about right for a prophet or someone like that. But maybe, through Christ, my mouth could be like some useful tool.

I would like to write like a shovel, a good tool that digs in the earth and helps to build things. A shovel helps things to grow, and helps to dig out nasty weedy things. Alone, by myself, my words are like a little trowel, or a plastic shovel in a child's sandbox. But with Christ's help--by living His commandments and following his example--my mouth can gradually be like a bigger shovel.

Right now I think I'm like one of those little army surplus folding shovels. But if I continue to stretch with opportunities to serve, and learn to be more humble, childlike, and Christlike, I may be able to say one day, "and he hath made my mouth like a strong and sturdy shovel." I would like that. When I come to that place, He will have made me his polished shaft; I will be hidden in the shadow of His hand.

100 Days

This has been a weird beginning to summer vacation this year. Since I took most of the last week of school off to be with Mark after his surgery, I missed most of the end-of-year markers, including the teacher workday yesterday. (I did go in for finals, to be able to have closure with my students, and last night I went and helped with a small graduation ceremony for the kids who got an Oregon basic diploma instead of the OCHS diploma.)

Anyway, I feel like I need something to signal a new season for me. I'm not sure how the thought of setting out some 100-day goals came to me, but I like the idea of using the next 100 days to make some positive changes in my life.

Day 1 will be tomorrow, June 12.
Day 100 will be Saturday, September 19.

For the next 100 days I want to:
1. Read my scriptures every day.
2. Write a little of my book every day.
3. Exercise every day except Sunday.
4. Eat healthy foods every day.

If I read 6 pages of the Book or Mormon every day, I will have read the entire book by September 19.

If I write just 1 page of my book every day, I will have a 100-page book written by September 19. Actually, I already have about 20 pages written, so that would make it a 120-page book.

If I walk just 1 mile a day, I will burn an extra 100 calories/day. At that rate, I could lose 3 pounds by only doing that, and chances are good I would actually do much more. When I walk, I often walk 2 or 3 miles, and when I work out at Curves, I generally burn at least 350-400 calories.

If I follow the Curves eating plan, I would be on track to lose 10 pounds by the end of 100 days, which would put me back within the healthy BMI range.

So here goes! Wish me well! What would you like to do in the next 100 days?

Courage to Write

Gee, after you haven't posted for a while, it's hard to get back into it again.

I have been reading "If You Want to Write" by Brenda Ueland. I love what she has to say because she is not inhibited about being "correct" - her focus is on saying what is true for her, and encouraging others to write according to what is true for them.

She says, "Everybody is original, if he tells the truth, if he speaks from himself. But it must be from his true self and not from the self he thinks he should have be. ... If you speak or write from yourself you cannot help being original."

These thoughts encourage me. They put courage into me - courage to try to speak up from my view of the world, a view which is hopeful rather than cynical, a view which leans more toward faith than to despair.

Ueland's book concludes with these thoughts: "And why should we all use our creative power and write or paint or play music, or whatever it tells us to do? Because there is nothing that makes people so generous, joyful, lively, bold, and compassionate, so indifferent to fighting and the accumulation of objects and money. Because the best way to know the Truth or Beauty is to try to express it. And what is the purpose of existence Here or Yonder but to discover truth and beauty and express it, i.e., share it with others?"

So I will try to write at least one true thing every day, at least one thing that is beautiful, at least to me.