Among the many benefits I’ve received from writing these daily musings has been this…
Every day, I have a wonderful excuse to tune in the static that exists in my head.
At first, the static is deafening. As I sit down and get that first dose of coffee in my bloodstream, I begin to get a signal.
Alas. There’s hope.
Next is spilling it all onto the digital page. It always starts out a mess.
How the hell am I going to bring this into focus?
How can I…
- Get clear on this idea, and…
- Communicate it clearly to you?
But I’m forced to work through it.
I’ll write 3–4 paragraphs only to delete them and start over.
Other times, I’ll start out with a bang, but when I get to the heart of the piece, I’ll realize I’ve strayed miles from the point.
Or I’ll get to the end and realize that my original idea has changed completely.
This is amazing stuff. When all is said and done, I have a (somewhat) cogent idea, which began as fuzz, ready to ship into the world.
Writing has allowed me to tune in the static that fuzzes between my ears.
If I hadn’t gone through this process, where would I be? Walking around with a fuzzy static bouncing between my ears. Living under the throws of a dialogue that is loud, but not clear.
The thing about static is that, as annoying as it is, if it’s present long enough, it fades into the background of our lives. Soon, it’s just… There. We accept it. We become complacent to the unanswered questions and unquestioned mysteries flying around in our psyches.
When we first start tuning in to the static, it’s really loud. Almost unbearable.
But when we start wrestling with it and making sense of the abstract chaos that is our mental chatter, we can start to make sense of it.
First, it’s a few words between the static. Then, maybe a tune. Soon enough, it’s a symphony.
And you’ll wake up tomorrow having to tune it in again.
But that perfect signal — tuning in to that sublime, clear, bold voice that is your authentic Self — makes it worth the wrestling.
I think I’m losing you again… Hello?