Today again I am hardly myself.
Mary Oliver “Reckless Poem”
It happens over and over.
After my ramble about music and writing and memory, I spent a few minutes trying to capture with words the colors of snow at midnight – glowing against a cloudy purplish sky as if emitting its own pale light. In what should have been darkness, it was strange to see everything so clearly.
In my various laments and complaints about writing and not writing, I usually place the blame on a lack of discipline, a shortage of time, or simply losing motivation by not having anything worth saying. All of those things contribute, for sure. But also, I have felt hardly myself. Every once in a while I look beyond the day to day struggle to write and examine my “body of work” from these many months. I go back to when I started and review the writing as well as my motivations. I think about how I wanted to practice longer form writing (and thinking). I wanted to get better at exposition – starting a post in one spot, winding my way through some thoughts, and echoing back the initial sentiments. I wanted to get comfortable with strangers and friends as part of my audience. I was also pushing myself on the notion of being the person I wanted to find – authentic, thoughtful, vulnerable, artistic (I hope to be more of all of those things). I was toying with the idea of one day being a writer – whatever that means.
Lately, it’s been hard to write because I feel like I’m doing little more than screaming into the void. It’s even harder because I’m not sure that what I’m screaming about extends beyond the curved walls of my own psyche. Put simply – what’s the point and why should anyone care? At times it all feels like a glorious vanity project. At best, I stumble across a way to say something mildly clever and at worst I’m still practicing making myself uncomfortable.
Since September 2019, I have written 463 blog posts. 164 of them are marked as private – meaning they are not visible to anyone but me and can’t be found on search engines (or if they can, they’ll return a 404 error). I think I’ve taken this whole site down at least twice and just as many times built it back up. Buried on here are a few dozen poems – they’re hidden because I had hopes of getting them published and some journals count having them on a blog as already being published. Also buried are some of the more personal / private posts – I feel less comfortable having those out on the net than I initially did. Every time I hide or unhide a post, I go through a process of revision both in form and in thinking. Taken as a whole, a lot of what I’ve written has been this year-and-a-half-long attempt at revision, at getting it right – an attempt to find, define, and redefine who I am and how I fit in the world. While I never claimed it would be of any use to anyone else, I continued for my own sake. Sometimes, the writing has cleared the way for more artful endeavors. Sometimes it’s just vomit.
Now, I’m not so sure about all of this. Once again, I’m contemplating the whole purpose, audience, and practice dynamic. As the title suggests, I’m thinking about starting over, or some type of dismantling, or some bigger revision – a second or third or fourth coming (I’ve lost track). When once I was “putting it all out there” (one of my first posts) now, I’m thinking of reigning it all in. I had thought that by writing about the things that crossed my mind, I’d become a bit more fearless – or at least more comfortable publicly living in the ambiguity of gray. I had been subscribing to the philosophy that nothing can be taken from me that I willingly give away – and in writing I’ve tried to give everything away.
But lately, I’ve been reading, and listening to stories about how our public lives are becoming increasingly compromised. Simply living puts you in someone’s cross-hairs. The other day the Times published a long, and slightly stuffy, opinion piece about living in a surveillance society. In it, the author talks about how much data is being collected on all of us and how we are being manipulated so that we buy or act or stay engaged. Algorithms create echo chambers for our views and increase our us vs. them mentality. I see this all the time on Facebook – a whole lot of “but what about-ism” coupled with righteous indignation. The other morning I listened to how election officials in multiple states, but especially Georgia, have been harassed for doing their job. One worker, Shaye Moss, and her mother Ruby Freeman were called out by Rudy Giuliani who compared them to drug dealers. In a call to Georgia officials, the former president called out Freeman specifically, “I’ll take on anybody you want with regard to Ruby Freeman and her lovely daughter, a very lovely young lady, I’m sure. But Ruby Freedman (ph), I will take – Freeman. I will take on anybody you want.” The net effect of this was that the president’s mob stalked Moss and Freeman. Freeman had people showing up at her house and she received threatening emails and texts, one reading, “we know where you live; we coming to get you.”
This (above) was the post I started last week. I’ve revisited it a few different times. I kinda knew where I was going with it, but was only easing my way up to that edge. I’ve been having trouble writing because a few weeks ago someone took issue with a post I made on social media. I’m not even sure what it was I said that they took issue with – I suspect it was two posts in which I shared images of the insurrection (confederate flag and a noose at the Capitol) and my caption was let’s be very clear as to whom the president said “we love you, you’re very special.” By took issue with, what I mean is that they shared it with my board of directors – perhaps in an attempt to get me fired. I have no details on any of this – other than someone didn’t like what I had to say and shared it with my board. I don’t know what they shared, I don’t know what they asked to have done about it, I don’t know what the response was. And while it was handled / dismissed, this is all very disappointing and disheartening.
Outside of LinkedIn, I’m not connected to anyone here on social media. Until recently, I kept most of my posts (on Facebook, Twitter, and this blog) public because I try to live an authentic life in which I conduct myself decently. I try not to do anything that I would be ashamed of. I think shame is one of the most crippling emotions, and is often used as a weapon against other people. And while I don’t think I should be ashamed of what I posted, someone has tried to make me feel ashamed of it. I’m very uncomfortable with the fact that someone is watching me simply to cause personal harm. I’m uncomfortable with the notion that taking a stance against racism and violent insurrection would be seen as a controversial issue. Being new to an area is difficult enough – feeling like I have a target on my back, makes it even harder.
When I moved here, I hid my very non-controversial posts about participating in the Black Lives Matter marches in Memphis. Posts in which people sang about wanting change – sang “Amazing Grace.” Posts about gathering in front of the church where Dr. King gave his last sermon. Posts about marching peacefully and standing in solidarity with people who have not had a voice. I was afraid these posts might not play well in my new home. I might have been right. In hiding them, I felt like I had betrayed myself.
These feelings are part of what I was trying to get at in my post “walking with your tribe.” I have felt like I have to be extra careful of what I say – in part because of my position (and I understand that) and in part because I’ve moved to an area where I’m in the political minority and we are in a volatile era of political and personal payback. This incident feels personal and has made me feel like I need to go into hiding. The Facebook page is now private. The blog might come down. Actions that make me feel like I’m not allowed to be who I am. I’ve been torn about all of it.
I’ve contemplated this blog and my privacy lots of times. I’ve thought about my discomfort with people knowing me on a more personal level – granting them that type of access. I’ve been well aware that people from my past have read it as have people in my present. For the most part, I’ve been ok with all of that. For the most part, I’ve viewed it as a type of empowerment that comes from living in plain sight. But that was before someone tried to use it against me.
I’m also aware enough to know that one person does not represent an entire community. On many days, I have good interactions with people who appreciate my contributions. But I also know that we are designed to focus on the negative as a way of self-preservation. In teaching, they say you should try to have a 4:1 praise to reprimand ratio with your students. In romantic relationships, some (Gottman) suggest that the positive to negative ratio needs to be 5 to 1. In psychology, therapists often talk about the freedom that comes with feeling safe (a child will take appropriate risks knowing they have a supportive parent to pick them up if they fall… and spouses often credit their partners for creating a safe space for them to succeed).
The fact is, violations of trust teach us not to be trusting. This, in turn, triggers our fight or flight response. Ever since someone attempted to get me reprimanded or fired or I’m not sure what, I haven’t felt safe to express myself. The posts have slowed because I can’t decide if I want to disappear, or double down. The posts have slowed because I’m caught between my best and worst self, between lacking conviction and passionate intensity, and perhaps the center cannot hold.
Turning and turning in the widening gyre
W.B Yeats “The Second Coming”
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.