Strange’s Log #47
I’ve been struggling with putting spiritual experiences into words. And it seems silly to write that. Like I have an entire blog of my own making to put whatever I want to whatever subject I want. But every time I bring the digital pen to the digital page, I get overwhelmed. I’m flooded with a long list of other people’s ideas of what success is supposed to look like in this situation.
Photo by Kinga Howard on Unsplash
You can’t be serious…
My fascination with spirituality has less to do with demonstrations of power and diving into the esoteric for ancient secrets to be revealed only to those chosen or worthy or something. I think spirituality does lot for humans. But in many conversations up to this point in my life, I find that people often focus on everything but the spiritual. There are soft whisps of people trying to claw back a sense of control to reconcile a feeling of powerlessness. There are grand tales of revenge, of desperation, or need and want scattered among the loves and the lusts, the successes and the uncertainties. And all of this is very human.
But it’s very hard to find people who can speak about it while, I guess, staying present. It seems that the stories people tell themselves, particularly with witchcraft of some kind, are often more powerful, more compelling, more interesting than people find their own lives to be. I mean, in short, escapism, and maybe even, detachment.
So to know that there is range of reactions in even mentioning spirituality is overwhelming. There are the people who have no interest in their minds being changed and some of them can be quite loud and quite proud about it. There are people who are desperate for something, anything, to believe in, not for the sake of the spirit but to solve another human problem. There are people who are very much about it, but still have to size me up because I haven’t said anything yet. Because here I sit, drafting this thing for the 13th time, trying to sort through who is this for?
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Do your thing, your audience will come.
I have no doubt that the people who find this, will find something valuable in it. Provided, of course, they’re curious, studious, and willing to put up with an inconsistent content creator and my variety of interests.
However, we cannot ignore the premium placed on attention. For content creators, there is a great deal of pressure to capture a stranger’s attention, captivate in as few words possible, and close a sale essentially. On top of the rampant amount of theft and copycats, clones, scammers, etc, unfortunately, etc.
Between you and me, I’m not worried about building an audience. I never imagined Strange and Savage to be a buzz with people, a line out the door. I have imagined it as an oasis of sorts. A place where people could take their time, catch their breath, and just be for a moment. Some of the most heartbreaking stories I’ve heard are people who did follow the urgency to become someone. Someone who made their parents proud, someone who was worth something purely from a measure of their sacrifices, someone who could push themselves further and further than anyone else. Only, for so many of those people, to later regret it, to become resentful, lonely, deeply hurt. I know it’s counterintuitive to not care about cultivating a ravenous audience in an age where time is money, attention is money, get that bread sib. But every time I have chosen to slow down, let the thoughts brew for a second, I’ve been happier and more secure in my decisions, more at peace in the long term. Sometimes grateful that I paused because some ideas are silly and borne of nonsense and confusion. I think some people confuse acting on every thought or feeling as living in the moment or being present, but that’s just impulsive.
Photo by Caroline Veronez on Unsplash
You talking to me?
When I have written the previous drafts, the words flowed freely when I thought of being able revisit what I had written one day in the future. I don’t expect every piece that I write to stand the test of time (some of it will eventually be big cringe, hopefully, if we’re lucky). I’m going to learn a lot about the world, about spirituality, about us, you and me. I can’t continue to lock myself away in a tower of books pretending that one day I will be perfect. And not even perfect by the standards of the people I like, but perfect by the worst ideas of what it means to be human. That’s a crime to myself and ultimately, the visitors to the gift shop on the void.
So I give myself permission to be bad at this. I embrace the possibility of becoming so ghastly, unbearably bad at this that I become legendary for it. But I think truly, that is unlikely, because I will have practiced, I will have learned and future me will have a fantastic time laughing about this moment.
Until next time,
Zakkarrii