Catching Idle Butterflies

Without words

Many times I’ve read a blog entry, clicked on the “Leave a comment” button, and pause. My fingers hover over the keys longing to write something in that little white box, to fill it with wisdom, comfort, joy. But all my fingers manage is a slight twitch. I give up, move my hand to my mouse and close the box, leaving not a speck of evidence I was there.

Why hesitate, why do the words, the very air to a writer, refuse to come?

Because no words will give wisdom, comfort or joy to the one who described their loneliness, their despair, their life that I cannot begin to comprehend.

I think writers are fixers by nature. We want to save the world with our words, to redeem a lost heart, to save a soul from darkness. But sometimes we see our words as flat and meaningless. How can we save the world when all we have to use are 26 little symbols, each on their own meaning nothing?

jspinelli described the frustration best in her comment to me the other day: “My words aren't coming very easily this evening. As a matter of fact, they seem to be stumbling all over my tongue. I've typed and then deleted a hundred times already, because no comment seems adequate enough.”

I responded saying any comment, no matter how short or meaningless it may seem to her still meant a lot to me. When I first started, my fears pleading for me to stop, each word she and the rest of you left encouraged me to continue moving forward.

If that’s true for me, it’s likely true for others. So next time someone expresses their loneliness, their despair, a part of their lives I can’t begin to understand, I’ll leave something behind. Even if it’s only a virtual hug, the person will know I heard, sympathized, and they aren’t alone. It’s a small thing, but small is better than nothing.

Slight change of subject. I wrote the above the day before yesterday, but the last twenty four hours have broadened my perspective.

jspinelli commented, in part, in yesterday’s entry: “. . . now it's time to make some changes, which is probably the hardest part . . .”

I sent an email back saying “I'm certain I will be tested soon on whether or not I can speak my emotions. I won't say without fear, because I have learned fear doesn't give up easy.”

I was tested not long after. I ignored my fears and spoke my mind in a few blogs. One responded, and it was quite clear I had not expressed myself as well as I thought. The other I lasted two minutes before I had to send a follow up email apologizing for any offense or hurt I may have caused from my abrupt words. Even after I sent that one, I couldn’t help but wonder if I only made things worse. Unwilling to dig myself deeper, I refrained from sending a third one.

To top that off, I’ve been having an unrelated email conversation with another WDC member. She said while being ourselves is a good thing, sometimes we can go too far and make nuisances of ourselves, or to use her words, become “obnoxious freaks.”

A warning, perhaps?

I’ve since had an internal fight going on. My old fears don’t want to give up. They keep telling me to keep my big mouth shut, I’m only making a fool of myself and hurting others in the process. Yet, on the other side screams my need to express myself, that I’m only hurting myself by continuing to stay silent.

The trick now is to find that middle ground, to not be afraid to say what I think and feel, yet at the same time choose my words carefully – or even to say nothing, because not everything I think or feel needs to be expressed.

jspinelli was more right than I knew at the time.

The hard part is just beginning.