Living authenticity. Admitting vulnerability. Following your fear.
I’ve been circling these ideas for months now. They’ve got a certain power over me, and they’ve been a through-line in the tangled constellation of thoughts I’ve been been having in the waning half of this year. I don’t have a Grand Unified Theory of “Being Your Real Self By Embracing Those Things You’re Afraid Of” but I think its little brother is following me around.
In the last twenty-four hours I’ve read half a dozen blog posts from people whom I admire in which they talk honestly about problems they’re facing, doubts they’re confronting, fears they’re acknowledging. In those words, I see a courage that I admire and that I aspire to. I see people being who they really are, honestly admitting their fears, honestly assessing the difficulties they are facing (and not whining about them). About eighteen months ago my brain stumbled across what I believe to be my personal motto: “With intensity and integrity.” That is how I see these people living. They inspire me to do the same.
This blog is supposed to be a place where I’m reflective in exactly that kind of way, and I’m conscious of how little I’ve been doing that. I keep telling myself that I’m busy Doing Stuff, which is a Good Thing, and so I don’t really need to let people know what I’m thinking. That misses the point, really, which is that writing here is really for myself. Yes, if I’m willing to honestly assess where I’m at and write truthfully about that, other people will find something in those words that they can take for themselves. But the person I’m really shortchanging by not writing here is me.
I want to tell myself that I’m going to stop doing that, and yet I know that I can’t say that with certainty. It’s a thing that I feel destined to struggle with. It will do what it has always done; it will come and go in cycles. I’ll ride a wave of writing a lot for a while, feeling good about what I’m doing. Something will happen, a routine will change, a rhythm will change, and the momentum will go the other way for a while. But there is one thing that I now realize will be constant: When I’m not writing and I feel like I should be, I’m right.
Time to listen.