I Begin

Project Blog It

"I, now thirty-seven years old in perfect health begin, Hoping to cease not till death."
Walt Whitman, "Song of Myself"


"Check it out, Check it in. Let me begin."

Lil' Nix, Off the Markov

"In the beginning. . . "

Genesis, Chapter 1


What does it mean, to me and to others, that I begin?

Now, this moment, this very moment, is a beginning, the perpetual possibility of a beginning. As we move forward, each second ticking away, we begin, and begin, and begin again, ever changing, ever new, ever refreshing.

And once begun, the beginning ends. It's a fleeting, ungraspable moment. Each beginning contains its own death and destruction, for once we have begun, we are no longer beginning.

What is perhaps the most interesting thing about beginning is the very decision to begin. The conscious thought that I must start. Whatever that starting is, the conscious "I" chooses to begin. It's a rich moment filled with total possibility and total promise. What will I begin? How will I begin?

Beginning is movement. It is change and advancement. It is dynamic. It is commitment and it is scary. It is also exhilarating and affirming. And, as Whitman says, let me begin again and again until my beginnings cease and I cease with them.

Please check the blogs listed on the right for companion pieces to this week's prompt.

Next week's prompt: Pure and Utter Nonsense

Describe Your God

Project Blog It

"The silence of God is God."

Elie Wiesel

In moments of silence, moments of absolute peace, those rare moments when even the mind finds a place of stillness, he sometimes sensed that he could pass beyond the veil separating himself from god. In those moments, he felt he was close to the presence of god, perhaps as close as he could possibly get. Certainly as close as he had ever been.

He sometimes thought that god came to him in flashes—moments of personal perception when he recognized that unnamable presence in another, in an experience, in a feeling, in a thought, those moments when he’d sense the greatness of others, of times and experiences that touched his soul. Never two the same, never repeatable, yet always the same in and as god.

At one point, now it seems so long ago, he believed in a god of bibles and buildings, of prayers and practices. But he no longer believes in that god, in that kind of god. At times of doubt, he'd wonder when he lost his faith. At times of certainty and confidence, he believed he'd never lost his faith, but instead had transformed it, and been transformed by it.

God remained faceless, nameless, beyond the very nomenclature "god," for any attempt to define, describe, or pin down the term led down innumerable paths until he became lost. And yet, these twisting and turning paths, paths that defy retracing and mapping, would, at times, suddenly converge. But just as soon as they converged, just as soon as he thought he could reach out and find god, understand god, they would divide again into countless possibilities.

He wondered when god disappeared from bibles and buildings, prayers and practices. He wondered when he himself became god.



Please see companion pieces at:
Travel With Road Trip Girl
Crash Course

Fire Flower



Next week's prompt:

"I, now thirty-seven years old in perfect health begin, Hoping to cease not till death."
Walt Whitman, "Song of Myself"

Bliss

Project Blog It


Bliss is subjective. It's a deeply personal experience. An experience of utter contentment, of happiness, perhaps even of joy in the very moment of the experience itself.

There is a time during the night, long after the world seems to have quieted down. It's a time of deep darkness and stillness.

Bliss comes to me at this time. It comes when I wake during that deep darkness, in a moment of disorientation. It comes in that magic moment when I think I only have a few more minutes to rest before rising to start the day, and then glancing at the clock and realizing that there are a couple of hours left before the world around rises and expects me to do the same. It is that instant when, quite naturally, I roll to the other side of the bed, find my partner, and nestle like two spoons. It is in that moment, cuddled with my partner, that I feel safe. It is in that moment that I experience pure contentment. It is in that moment that I am free from the rest of the world, free from the needs and wants of others, free from the needs and wants of myself, free from my very self. In that moment, I am wholly present. In that moment, in the dark and silence of night, I find bliss.



Please visit the companion piece over at Travel With Road Trip Girl. In addition, Skajlab has written a piece on this week's topic at Crash Course, Daisy has over at Fire Flower, and Minerva has at Vox Minerva.


Next week's prompt: describe your god

The Politics of Writing. The Politics of Oooh Feeling Good

Project Blog It

We got the message

I heard it on the airwaves

The politicians

Are now "writers?"

With apologies to Paul Fishman and Re-Flex

What exactly constitutes the “politics of writing?” Sadly, long ago and far away, I wrote often about politics. But not the kind of politics currently in public conversation—US national politics about governing, domestic and foreign policy, and party differences as we head into this year’s major national election. Instead, I wrote about social, cultural, and philosophical politics: identity politics and the politics of identity, race politics and the politics of race, gender politics and the politics of gender, sexual politics and the politics of sexuality. Mind you, the elements in each of these binary pairings are not necessarily the same thing.

But what is the politics of writing? One can certainly write to be political, that is to engage in a politicized discourse about something. But such acts don't necessarily define the politics of writing. I am writing now. But what does that act mean? I am attempting to convey a set of thoughts via the written word to be read, at least by me. But it is not merely the attempt at conveying thoughts, because in that conveyance, I control the words and phrasing to convey those thoughts. Any writing is written for an audience, even if that audience is only the writer. I write in a particular way. I control my words and phrases, my very thoughts, with at least some understanding of who is to witness them. In this case, I write for an audience both known and unknown. Will that audience agree with me? Will it understand me? Do I care?

We expose ourselves via writing. But that exposure is always mediated by the conscious acts of the author and the context in which something gets written. I embrace the various levels of control at that same time that I attempt to freely open and present myself to the world. Ultimately, perhaps, the politics of writing, the politics of this writing, are the politics of self.


Please be sure to see the companion piece over at Travel With Road Trip Girl.

Next week's prompt: Bliss

Project Blog It

Road Trip Girl and I have begun a project in an attempt to get us out of the ruts that our lives have become. We're both creative, intelligent people (at least I like to think so, and I believe Road Trip Girl would agree). However, we both work highly demanding, stressful jobs, and we both have personalities that lead us to give those jobs all we have. The result is a huge personal cost. We've not made time for the things we truly love and for the things that have meaning for us.

In an attempt to move us back to a place of balance, and to try to jump start better introspection, thinking, and perhaps most importantly, creativity, Road Trip Girl and I have started Project Blog It. The rules are fairly simple. Every Friday we each make a post on our respective blogs: Travel With Road Trip Girl, and Shmonkey's Jungle. The posting is based on a prompt assigned by one of us in the week before posting day. There are really no other rules. Road Trip Girl and I can discuss our writing or not. We can brainstorm together or not. We can critique one another's writing or not. The point is to always post something on Friday, and to create a mutually supportive and encouraging situation that fosters the development of our individual writing skills.

Looking forward into the future from my position in the present, I think our weekly writings will be very diverse; sometimes creative fiction, sometimes creative non-fiction, sometimes personal, sometimes philosophical, sometimes academic, and all of the other possibilities in between. As long as we write and push beyond the narrow frames that have been imposed upon our lives and our minds by our environment.

We welcome you to stop by every Friday. Read both Travel With Road Trip Girl and Shmonkey's Jungle. See how each of us tackles a topic differently. Engage us by commenting, please. Consider joining our project by picking up the weekly prompt and making your own posting on Fridays.