A New Beginning

The title "Dwell in Possibilities" is a quote from Emily Dickinson. I find the fact that she wrote such a phrase slightly ironic. My reasoning? She did not become well known as a writer until after her death. Not to skew history, she was published in her time; however most of her famous works were discovered after her death. That sets up, sort of a comical scene in my mind. I wonder how her family reacted to her unseen work. Maybe some was never meant to be seen. The ironic part for me, is that I feel people never really knew her until she was gone. And the question it raises for me, personally, is will the same be said for me? Will the people that are the closest to me wonder if they ever really knew me? Am I willing to leave that impression? Today, I say "no." But, it is not for them that I write. It's for me. Maybe underneath all of this verbiage, I wonder not who I really am (I think I have descent understanding) but where I really am, and the person I want to make the greatest impression on is myself. Thusly, this has been the motivation in creating this virtual space of me-ness.



For the moment, let's digress. I've gotten ahead of myself, as usual. Maybe the events leading up to today are of more importance. Hell, I don't know. Let's start with what I am; I am a woman in my youth (try not to judge me too harshly), college graduate, employed, and living financially almost comfortably. Almost. Should we dare ask who I am? On that subject, I'm afraid we've barely scratched the surface. However, even that sounds contrived. I've heard it all before; countless blogs of people trying to find themselves. Although noble, often mundane. But then again, that seems to be my current self-afflicted mood: mundane and melancholy, which is a new emotion for me.

..wait...again, ahead of myself. The fingers are always ahead of the mind. It's a curse.

So, yesterday I started writing. I have not written in so long. My brain felt (still feels) out of focus. Clear thoughts come. Making connections, though nothing is clearly connected. Thoughts are disjointed; they lead here and there. Six months out, and I feel like I've been in a coma--think apathy. The experience of holding a pencil in hand to produce words was painful. I used to do this hours everyday I thought to myself. Yet, the pain felt gratifying. It felt foreign and familiar all at once. What I was writing about you may ask (or maybe you don't give a shit)? Writing about writing. The art of it; its purpose. In technical terms--the narrative imagination. That phrase so coined by Martha Naussbaum in her book Cultivating Humanity: A Defence of Liberal Education (that's right, I said liberal. Judge away). It's a beautiful concept about the dialogue between readers, writers, and characters. It explores the gateway opened between them, and the knowledge that flows through that gateway. The idea continues forward asserting that this world of ideas allows individuals to know themselves better; know their world better; and most importantly, know their own humanity. Furthermore this knowledge develops virtues of compassion, empathy, respect, and love, which in turn, develops a moral responsibility of every writer. And, that responsibility is to tell the truth.

Of course this is a very vague and watered down version of the idea. I do not have the time to do it justice. However, if you get the opportunity to read the piece...do so. And now we ask, what's the point? Who cares? I guess the answer is selfish. I care. I've never ever considered myself a writer of any kind or talent. It's a hobby. But, when I put down my pencil last night. The decision was immediate and resolute. I must pick it back up. I must tell the truth about me. The whole truth. I do this in hopes of knowing where I am with the goal of finding out where I'm going. Too often I am a destination-focused girl. I don't want to miss the journey: its lessons, trials, and joys. I want to squeeze all the life I can out of each moment. This is an attempt to account for it.

So it starts now. It meets here. And we'll see how it goes.