Check out what I have been learning about INFJs here:
Check out what I have been learning about INFJs here:
my tongue is tied in knots and not speaking only causes everything to build up to the brim, the sea of the seen welling up to my head from my heart – overflowing out of my eyes that are leaking (at least they should be) the why is because my hands have been resting, testing the waters, at least that’s the excuse I will make, but it’s fake, for really I am scared and normal (and scared is normal) and really my eyes only leaked two or three times since before, I am fine, really.
…but who is looking for fine, really. The best of the best or the worst of the worst for if I see one more generic landscape painting, one more adorable wide-eyed kitten, one more “5 five ways to flatter abs” I think the fineness of it all will overtake me and the mundanity will take my insanity, for all of it is playing a game, aiming to make us all sane, painless and numb, too dumb to speak anything new or original, for there is none of that anyway, so what do we do with these tongues of ours besides tie them in knots out of fear of not being anything other than normal.
. . .
It has been a while since I have written anything on here. (It’s funny that life can go on without my online presence, regardless of however insistently opposed to that idea social media seems to be.) There was a chunk of time when the increase in audience, however small it may be, really affected the way I was thinking about my blog. One effect, that I foresaw to some degree, was an increased timidity: too timid to write anything new for fear of offending, hurting, or being judged.* (And with the recent increase in talk of race – a topic I have been wanting to write about since having read Claudia Rankine in poetry class – I have become even more fearful of being misunderstood) However a secondary effect took me by surprise: the feeling that I must only post the best. The best writing, the best experiences, the best insights. And if things aren’t going well, then I must post the best of the worst. (aka deep insights into my pain, poetic lamenting, coherent arguments, etc.)
But honestly, my life is pretty normal. My writing is pretty mediocre. My daily activities and thoughts aren’t very earth-shattering. But I don’t want to waste your time by posting things that aren’t “worth reading.” And that means I don’t stop to try to write anything worth reading because nothing has really happened…nothing except, ya know, just, my life. ((And THEN I internally debate if this the “right or wrong” response…If I only feel the need to keep up with a blog because I am part of the technology generation or because I know it helps keep me sane or because I feel this pressure to keep friends/family updated…have you noticed that I tend to overthink basically everything?)) So, if I disappear for a while it’s probably because I am just making dinner and buying groceries and watching children and hanging out with friends and have decided that you could just go on Pinterest to replace anything I would post.
(Or because I have been too lazy to download all of the Alaskan cruise photos off of my camera…or because I fear I won’t have anything deep and insightful to say about the trip and will ruin my “intellectual, deep-thinker persona” haha…just kidding…but also totally serious… Let’s be honest, you kind of expect that of me, don’t you? Some long rambling post about societal norms and emotions and poetic writing? Or maybe you don’t and I have it all wrong…I’ll start posting pictures of cats… not that there’s anything wrong with posting pictures of cute cats! Just not my thing… oh no, now I offended all of the internet cat people…time to go back into my hole, as my dad would say, no offense dad, you just say that so I was just saying it because you say it not to make fun of you…oh no….speaking of my foot lodged in my mouth..)
So with that totally ridiculous post out of the way, I am going to write a list here so that you read it and I read it and so that I actually write about these things because I genuinely want to (and I genuinely want to have conversations about these things) but haven’t had the discipline to actually do it yet (also I was on a boat in the middle of the ocean for a week, so there’s that):
If those sound lame, well, no hard feelings. :) If one sounds better than the others…COMMENT. I would love nothing more :) except maybe a replenished stock of mint chocolate chip ice cream…
* Prior to my blog presence on Facebook and Instagram only strangers could read what I was sharing. Inviting my personal world into my deepest thoughts and fears was a lot harder (and a lot more impactful) than the invitation to the general population of the internet. There is something to be said about anonymity and freedom. At least if I offend someone, I won’t run into them at the grocery store. Or if I share a struggle, I know that I won’t have to worry about someone mentioning it in conversation when I am unprepared to discuss it. But I have also found that while some of my posts have led to difficult conversations with the people in my life, they have also led to deepening of conversations, opening the door for more real and intimate connection. It’s interesting how much easier it is to talk about something (e.g. expressing fear, hopes, struggles, anger; admitting doubt or error) once someone else has already broached the topic. Don’t you find that you are more open to be honest and open with someone who has already been honest and open with you? Nobody wants to be that person who expresses some deep part of their soul to have it laughed at or thrown back at them. So we play it safe and remain guarded. We turn everything into parody. We chose sarcasm over authenticity. We make a mockery of our fears and flaws and insecurities in hopes that others won’t see how broken, scared, and helpless we really are – or if they do, well, at least we said it first. …..or, is that just me?
Phenomenal writer. I couldn’t agree more.
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Sometimes I think all living is the story of what we do with our wounds. When we ask each other, How are you? what we are really asking is, What are you doing with your wounds today? Maybe Jesus asks the same question, when it comes down to it.
The human narrative is the narrative of woundedness. How we felt the cut to be fatal; how we try to bandage it with technology and distraction, or else inflict the same injuries upon each other; how we do our best to escape it but also feel inexplicably that such woundedness is us, is us not just in our most honest but in our most beautiful, and all our attempts at sewing really just begs for surgery; how it all feels so very much like homesickness.
The Gospel narrative, as I understand it, is also the narrative of woundedness. It is the…
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