I simultaneously love and fear writing. Though for a few people love and fear may exist on the same pole of the emotional continuum, for me they exist on the opposite poles (1). I therefore think it may not be that I both love and fear writing, but that I love some parts of it and fear others. I love the process of writing, reflecting, gathering thoughts, I however fear what happens once one lets those thoughts, ideas and reflections go.
What happens to yourself after processing through written expression as it has the capacity to change both, your perception of memories which are bitter and full of sorrow but also those memories that are sweet?
What happens to those thoughts as they are picked up by others, interpreted and reflected within their view of things?
I dare to say that I have learned a great deal of theoretical knowledge about perception thorough my undergraduate degree, yet oddly enough this knowledge has changed only little about my fear of publishing opinion pieces that I have written. Perhaps this has little to do with the fear of perception and (mis)interpretation of my thoughts by others as this happens even through other means of communication, is uncontrollable, and sometimes even a needed artefact of life. Perhaps this fear has more to do with identifying myself with the thoughts and opinions and the conscious knowledge that these thoughts and opinions that I identify with now, may change in both space and time. Yet I'm not sure if I would bother and find it necessary to go back and modify them. Would it even be necessary? Will everything I say, think and feel only be and remain confined in a certain place and time? I wonder if this would even actually decrease the value of what I write.. Is this even a valid excuse for not sharing, if such thing as a “valid excuse” could be determined and quantified by any external measure at all..
Perhaps all that I have said touches upon a more overarching reason for my fear- it is not really the perception of others, nor that thoughts and opinions change over time (as is natural and in fact very well needed as humans gather new information and knowledge, adapt to situations and changing circumstances), but the fact that by sharing one makes oneself vulnerable. This vulnerability is confined to a certain space and time of course because as what matters today may not matter as much tomorrow. Yet the vulnerability is real. This is why people use pseudonyms and value anonymity to a great extent, as the fear to be vulnerability is pinned down in real life consequences. I have however learned a great deal in that regard. Without expression and exchange of pieces of oneself, one can only gain so little in life. Quoting my favourite book The Little Prince “ One runs the risk of weeping a little, if one lets himself be tamed”. Yet its worth taming. It enriches human life to have exchanges that potentially make you vulnerable. A little caution though is necessary, not all situations call for exposing oneself or ones thoughts (2). After having learned this lesson, what else can it be that makes fear come so close to what I love?
As I was writing my summary of reflections on the previous year as I have a tendency to do in the end of December, I may have stumbled upon an answer. Of course a partial answer as it is ridiculous to think that such thing as a final or full answer to anything can ever be comprehended or found by any single or a group of humans. I would love to quote Hitchhikers guide to the galaxy, but that would go too much off topic so just read the book and ponder about that a bit. The answer. Or the question?
Yet, this partial answer (as I hope it is.. we can never be certain) is not any less important than the ones I mentioned before. What I came across in my writing is that is probably not anything internal in myself that makes the fear so real. It is worth mentioning as a side-note however, that of course one can easily argue that any fear is self-made and an internal reflection, but that argument is periphery and not contradicting the one I want to make.
It became increasingly apparent to me that it is incredibly difficult to reflect and summarize a whole year of experiences in a richness that would do them any justice. Expressing oneself should through a written form should not feel strange, but it can feel strange if your ambition is to make others see what you saw, hear what you heard, touch what you touched. Perhaps even the ambition to make them feel what you felt. The strangeness comes to the equation as it becomes uncomfortably apparent to you that this can never be achieved. It may also at one point become apparent that this may not be desirable..
I do think that to a certain depth everyone has experienced this, yet how explicitly this has become apparent can vary greatly. Of course some writers I believe come very close to this. Bringing richness to their communication. Who hasn’t read a great novel that completely immerses you in its vividness? I am currently absolutely immersed in a fantasy novel (name of the wind. If anyone wants to get hooked) and its amazing. One can of course never be sure if the images I create in my mind are what the author intended. but they are nevertheless great. at least for me. I will avoid falling to the debate if it is even necessary for the reader to experience what the author intended as I have some conflicting ideas and opinions about it that id need to figure out by myself, but maybe in a later post. A lot of credit to authors who are indeed capable and skilled in conveying this much.
Anyhow I guess I do sometimes fear writing. Not only publishing and the moment of “ letting thoughts go”. But fearing the letting your thoughts and ideas take a form in a written word. Everything is a reduction. Simplification. And now add all the complicating factors I mentioned above: The processing changing your memories; The uptake and potential misinterpretation; Being confined in space and time; Vulnerability; Numerous other factors, both identified and unidentified, whether written down here or elsewhere… and voilaa you get a person who decides that status quo is better than coming out of the bubble.
I wonder why I haven’t encountered this in other forms of communication. For instance video editing. I love making videos and setting them to music. This is also a process of reducing the outside world to a certain format. I guess a visual format feels slightly less restricting than written format and perhaps I know that there is very little misinterpretation that can happen, nor will this change much in time and space..though of course as I'm improving in this new field Id often like to go back and change the way I edited things.. Also perhaps the visual editing is more creative for me than writing? I rarely nowadays write short stories. In fact I think I haven’t written one in years now. I probably wouldn’t identify with it to the same extent I identify with written things.
In terms of spoken communication- It usually remains temporary, it perhaps is not as overly ambitious in its intent and any misunderstandings can usually be remedied. Unless other factors, social and otherwise, wont allow you to go back and remedy what you said.
Oh well, to conclude: Why do I have this odd fear of writing? I don’t really know. And its ok not to know. What this writing achieved? Perhaps it was entertaining for someone which would be an achievement on its own, but perhaps it decreased my fear of writing. But perhaps nothing.
Funnily enough this was not what I intended to write about.. I could still write about all the other things I wanted to write about.. but the book I'm reading is interesting and as a human who cant stand against temptations for very long unless there is a real reason It is time to end this monologue.
Also before you point it out- Yes. It is highly ironic how I write about the fear of writing. Oh sweet irony. Also kinda funny how I did not realise this until I was half way through.
Adios. Until next time. As you can see it now hasn't been more than five years between the posts so perhaps "see you soon" may actually live up to its conventional expectations.
(1) Ill leave the argument about whether love is an emotion or not for another time.
(2) This should have gone without saying. But oh well "kordamine on tarkuse ema" - "Repetition is the mother of wiseness" as the saying in estonian goes..
