I am my words

“I do not believe that sheer suffering teaches. If suffering alone taught, all the world would be wise, since everyone suffers. To suffering must be added mourning, understanding, patience, love, openness, and the willingness to remain vulnerable.” -Anne Morrow Lindbergh

Years ago I was discussing live performing with a rock star friend and we both said one of the most important parts of connecting with an audience was the willingness to be vulnerable. It was odd to hear a star of his success talking about vulnerability on stage, but he believed (as I do as a performer) that vulnerability is essential to making that genuine connection with the audience. It is through that realness of allowing them to see you, that they become your audience, as much as you become their performer. It is an exchange of vulnerability. We see each other.

I am vulnerable, open and real. I cannot not be. It’s almost like “Tourette's vulnerability.” It is certainly not always convenient to be vulnerable and genuine. There are many times when it would be much easier if I were not. But it is who I am and it is what I write. For my writing to have any value, it must be me and I must be it. I am my words. I could not write otherwise.

Over the past few years, my writing has changed (evolved?) from being mostly social media posts into its own entity. These words are now just “what I write.” I will share them, but they exist as they are. I do not have to share them for them to be validated. However, I do truly enjoy sharing and I will continue to do so.

This doesn’t mean what I write will always be interesting, or fun, sometimes quite the contrary. The value of my writing is in its truth. I need to write these words to help me to understand myself and my world. I reckon that sometimes, they will be worth sharing. I will share this photo of a Star Finch departing its branch from Kununurra, Western Australia.

   

I opened this with a quote from Anne Morrow Lindbergh and I will close with a bit more from her as well. I am so grateful that her words, which are beautiful, vulnerable and genuine, have reached across time and touched my soul. Her hands that held pencil and paper years ago have now held my heart. I will know her through her words and love her. Inspiration is golden. 

She wrote, “I must write it all out, at any cost. Writing is thinking. It is more than living, for it is being conscious of living.” In those words she explains perfectly and concisely why I write. For me writing is essential to living, like air and water and coffee.

She also wrote this about writing...

“One writes not to be read, but to breathe... One writes to think, to pray, to analyse. One writes to clear one's mind, to dissipate one's fears, to face one's doubts, to look at one's mistakes--in order to retrieve them. One writes to capture and crystallise one's joy, but also to disperse one's gloom. Like prayer--you go to it in sorrow more than joy, for help, a road back to 'grace'.”
― Anne Morrow Lindbergh from the War Within & Without: Diaries and Letters of Anne Morrow Lindbergh, 1939-1944

I will be open and I will remain vulnerable. I write therefore I am and it is real even if I do not share it. I love just because. Here are a few photos from the bush, because my heart is out there even whilst it is in isolation here. 

       

My Troopi in the mallee of South Australia. Too long have I been shut away from the outback, but I believe the science and I am more than willing to comply with the nonessential travel ban. I am staying at home during these weeks of the pandemic isolation.