the unspooling continues... pt. 5: a maladroit return
on stumbling out the starting block (and regaining your footing)
It’s been four days since I returned to “writing” -- but the cursor blinks on an empty page.
Damn that page and its accursed void! It’s supposed to be filled with words by now—splendiferous, redolent words!—and yet here it sits in idle vacancy, bereft of even a single decent starting point. Where are all of the brilliant words I had imagined would vigorously flow once I sat down and showed up? Where are the beautiful words which were to herald the triumphant return of unspooling?
The blankness of the page mocks me in the minuscule intervals between cursor blinks, helpfully reminding me of how many times I’ve deleted what drivel I’ve managed to dribble onto the page, only to swallow it up in one long press of the “delete” button.
For four whole days it’s been nothing but false starts, frustration, and ever-increasing tension in my right shoulder. I must be gripping the pen too tightly, choking off the words before they can flow. (I know, I know, I write with a keyboard—but where’s the romantic imagery in that?)
There’s no time to lose and I’m already behind schedule—my last written post was published on December 10th of 2023. It’s been a long layoff and I’m desperate to get the ball rolling again.
Probably too desperate, as it turns out.
Because after four days of futility, I’m dangerously close to dangling from the end of my rope.
If my mind were a river, the waterway would be hopelessly clogged with refuse and debris, suitable only for studying the effects of poison gas on a natural environment. Its pungent waters would be opaque and implacable, reeking of sulphur and brimstone. Above the surface of the water, a noxious layer of odorous vapour would prevent any attempt at safe navigation; and beneath it, whirling vortices would threaten, without offering even a hint or premonition of incipient doom, to swallow and destroy anything unfortunate enough to become ensnared in the great maelström.
It’s essentially impossible for decent ideas to survive in such an acerbic stream. What few designs manage to circumnavigate the gauntlet of self-loathing and regret bunging up the works are invariably thrown aside or found wanting.
And so, after four days of blinking cursors and empty pages, false starts and wistful fantasies of grandeur, it finally occurs to me that I recognise the territory I’m in—I’ve seen these riverbanks before, and my anxiety alights anew, like an odious belch of swamp gas… because I know this particular little tributary I’m sailing upon… and I know exactly where it leads…
From the deepest recesses of my mind, the apparition of a shadow whispers silent confirmations of my worst fear.
“Styx…”
“Hades...”
A rabid determination to turn back, to find some other way, any other way, seizes me… but the current is too strong to reverse course now. The pull of the river feels inexorable. Inevitable.
I curse and plead with the gods in equal measure. I shout threats and murmur lamentations. Out of options, I look to the sky for salvation. Unanswered, I beg the riverbanks to bring themselves within reach. Denied deliverance, I rend my feeble vestments and collapse to my knees. A grim frigidity overwhelms my lower extremities and it’s then that I notice that my boat is sinking. Prostrate and paralysed, I feel the darkness surrounding me grow ever bolder.
Even before the opening salvo is fired, I know the assault is coming.
Because it’s at times like this that I question what I’m doing writing unspooling. What I’m doing writing at all, really.
It’s at times like this that I question whether I actually, in fact, possess the level of talent necessary to do this work I feel so compelled to do.
It’s at times like this that I watch my peers continue to write and flourish and I think, “Damn them! And damn their audacity for daring to thrive while I piss away the hours staring at that damnable blinking cursor and that blank fucking page!”
And if those peers reveal even a glimmer of outward success? By god… a more exquisite form of torture, there is none.
As the fetid waters threaten to overwhelm me, the devil on my shoulder perks up and whispers softly into my ear that I’ve lost sight of the Path.
And maybe I have—but that’s okay, I assure myself. I’ll find it again, eventually… probably when I stop trying so damn hard to glimpse it from the corner of my eye!
And then something strange happens: I remember that I’m breathing. And it’s happening all on its own, with no effort or awareness necessary on my part for its production.
in/out, in/out, in/out, in/out, in/out
Now isn’t that something?
I close my eyes and the blank page, along with its winking accomplice, mercifully disappear from sight. Almost immediately, the air doesn’t seem quite so foul anymore.
When I open my eyes again, the river is gone and I can see, with shocking clarity, how much I’ve gotten in my own way of late.
I see how I’ve put way too much pressure on myself; I see the many ways I’ve ensured that procrastination will triumph over my very best intentions; I see how I’ve set myself up for failure and how I’ve used those inevitable failures to further destructive narratives that guarantee even more defeats in the future; I see how difficult it has been for me to give myself even an iota of grace; and I see how I’ve neglected attending to the emotional and psychological wounds that prevent me from showing up in a way that facilitates success.
Seeing it all so clearly, after days of wilful blindness, I resolve not to test the definition of insanity any longer. In a flash, I abandon the blank page—mocking cursor and all—and grab a jacket from the front closet. All of a sudden, I’ve captured the momentum that has eluded me for days. And in the back of my mind, I suspect that I finally know what I need to do to solve my “problem:” nothing!
I lace up my boots and venture into the unknown.
There were a bunch of walking trails close to where k and I used to live. Immaculately paved tendrils of pavement ran all across town like a vast asphalt spiderweb. I used to love exploring the city that way.
As luck would have it, there just so happens to be a bunch of walking trails near our new place, as well—so, on this occasion, I picked a direction (left, if you’re curious) and meandered without purpose. Curious by nature, but also ever-curious about nature, I resolved to follow the trail wherever it led.
Did I have any idea where I was going to end up? Nope. Not in the slightest. But I figured, why let fear and common sense hold me back?
So off I went, following the twists and turns of the trail without distraction or intention—no phone, no music, no nothin’—just the rhythmic crunching of fresh snow and fallen leaves under my boots, and the huffing of my breath for company.
But it wasn’t so bad… in fact, I’d barely left the premises before I’d made a new friend.
The weather was wonderful. There was little wind to speak of and I was perfectly comfortable in just a sweatshirt, light jacket, and sweatpants (well-insulated, water-proof boots are the key to staying warm in these northern climes). Beautiful, fat snowflakes fell steadily throughout the 1.5 hours I spent exploring.
At one point, I looked skyward to watch a wedge of migratory geese flying overhead, and a snowflake fell directly into my open mouth. As I felt the flake dissolve—its impossibly intricate contours destroyed in an instant by the heat of my mouth, tongue, and saliva—the incident assumed instant significance. It felt as though I was at the very centre of the universe, or, maybe that the centre of the universe was me, in that moment; but, regardless, I got the impression that I was right where I needed to be, that there was nothing else for me to be doing, except existing—except being—in that exact spot, at that exact moment, with that exact snowflake.
It an oddly profound experience; a meaningful encounter with the Stupefying Sublimity of the Eternal Now. Especially because it could just as easily have been a piece of goose shit, that fell into my gaping maw.
You see, when I finally gave myself permission to be the human being I am and stopped trying to become the automated writing machine I wished I was, I discovered something valuable—and I don’t mean the trail shown in the picture above (although I’m glad to have found that too); I discovered that I am truly capable of learning from past mistakes. Granted, the level of my progress was far slower to develop and more poorly attuned for a rescue effort than I would have liked, but it was nonetheless real. (And spectacular!)
In the past, I probably would have allowed that rancid river in my mind to carry me all the way to its toxic terminus. I would have fallen headlong into the underworld and a truly Herculean effort would have been required to salvage whatever remained of me. This time, however, I managed to save myself on the very brink of the precipice. Next time—and let’s have no doubts that there will be a next time—I hope to do a little bit better.
That, I think, I can manage.
From where I’m sitting, there's a lot to be said for incremental progress. But it’s a concept that gets almost no shine in our culture, and that’s to our shame. Our short-sighted focus on immediacy conveys the subtle message that we can, and should, be able to attain anything and everything we want instantaneously.
Want to lose weight?
Don’t develop better habits or commit yourself to a strenuous program, don’t focus on growth over results or set ambitious, but achievable, goals—all those things take time and effort! And who the hell has either of those anymore?! Just take this pill and watch the pounds melt away.
Right… if only.
When we swallow the lie of immediacy, it makes us lazy, weak, and stupid—an unholy trinity, if I’ve ever seen one.
Had you offered me a pill that would have instantly alleviated my writer’s block, I probably would have taken it. It wouldn’t have helped a lick—but I would have taken it anyway. When you feel like shit, the usual tendency is to find the quickest possible route away from feeling like shit.
Yet, it is exactly in those low moments that we most need to reconnect with our ultimate values and intentions, and take stock of the long view. It is in those moments that we need to slow down and be more curious about what it is we’re missing, without trying to grasp for a solution before we even know what the problem is—or whether there’s even a problem in the first place.
For days, I tried everything I could think of to fill that blank page—everything, except allowing my mind to be as blank as that page. I was so caught up in what I felt were my immediate needs, that I lost sight of my ultimate intention.
By anticipating a problem before it arose—by assuming its inevitability—I had precipitated a problem that I was wholly unprepared to face and woefully unequipped to answer.
After a month long absence, I wanted to return to unspooling with my best work yet. Something to really wow the masses and win me a greater readership. A piece so transparently brilliant, so obviously wise, so transcendentally profound, that I could feel as though I had made up for lost time.
Summoning the requisite courage needed to “show up” had always been the dragon I had had to slay in the past—it had never occurred to me that I could show up in so a detrimental way as to choke off my productivity entirely.
And if a draft began to falter under the unbearable weight of such an impossible standard? Rather than take a step back and question my framing, I simply rearranged the load; as if I had won the right to “force it” simply because, once upon a time, I had slain a dragon and mumbled some magic words.
But that’s not how it works, is it? We don’t always get to impose our will. It’s also the case that our will, and even our best, and most sincere, intentions, will, occasionally, prove insufficient means of overcoming obstacles. Sometimes we get to make choices in life, and sometimes, life makes impositions upon us. We might not appreciate that state of affairs very much when we’re on the receiving end, but that’s just how it is. Life requires constant adaptation and flexibility. All we can do, as Gandalf told Frodo in the dank recesses of Moria, is decide what to do with whatever is given to us.
I tried resistance, and I tried forcing it, and I tried a million-and-one other things to break the deadlock. Yet, it was only when I stopped trying to force it and allowed myself to follow my instincts that I realised that I wasn't facing a problem… I was the problem.
What I needed, as it turns out, was to find a modicum of grace and acceptance (which, sadly, do not come naturally to me). Because—wouldn’t you know it?—after I stowed my boots and changed into cooler clothing, I pulled up that blank page and laid down the bones of the post you’re reading now. And I don’t think it’s absolute drivel. So there’s that!
Ultimately, I’m beyond grateful, and immensely humbled, to be able to say: I’m back. But don’t call it a comeback! Because, just like James Todd Smith, “I been here for years/rockin’ my peers and puttin’ suckas in fear.”
And it’s going to stay that way, ya heard?
Hey everyone!
I hope you all had a nice holiday season, a great end to 2023, and that 2024 is off to a fantastic start.
It’s great to finally be back—I’ve missed the unspooling of things immensely this last month!
Now that we’re finally settled into the new place, I’m back behind the keyboard again and cooking up some exciting reads for y’all. Mercy, mercy me; it feels good coming “home” again!
Until next week,
Be well, and stay on the Path, my friends.
- c.d.
I'm so glad you're back. Was wondering where you had wandered off to!
I love your pictures. They remind me of a 6-mile walk I do from time to time. The walk serves to clear my head and validate life with a primacy not found on the Internet or the workaday world.
As you write so eloquently, getting out of one's own way is required to keep the spigot of creativity turned to the On position. Self-care is important as well.
This post was amazing. The accompanying photos had me feeling as though I was with you in this walk of discovery and your insights were relatable. I look forward to your future posts!