Early Morning Train

“We must not wish for the disappearance of our troubles but for the grace to transform them.”

― Simone Weil

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Dear Kate,

Do you write about your troubles, try to make sense of them as they happen?

I believe we all do, in our head, in our heart, whether we actually commit our words to paper or binary signals.  So what do you get up to write about, when your trouble is still up and about?

We wish our trouble would go away; it's natural that we would think about a solution, or, if none is available to implement with our own hands, a salvation.  The goal is to build or find a bridge over our troubled water.

What kind of writing do we do when we are wishing our troubles away?

Boring writing, I say, because it is usually technical writing to articulate rational cause-and-effects, pragmatic trial-and-errors, to come up with an explanation, a fix, a closure.

Bad writing, I say, because it is often reluctant writing.  Who wants to speak about his trouble for the world to hear?  He doesn't even want to hear about it himself, doesn't want to paint a bigger picture to cloud his judgement.  He will talk about the cloud in the sky after he has reached it.  He will share his salvation story after he is rescued.  No one declares a failure.  Everybody wants to hear about victories.  Why trouble the world with your troubles?

Bull writing, I say, because it is frequently dishonest writing.  The real trouble is we believe we shouldn't be troubled, not troubled this way, enough for us to feel troubled, stressed beyond the minimal necessity to keep our mind sound and body solid.  We can talk about the world's troubles, other people's troubles, when we are immunized against the unseemly aspects of being human; until we have the vaccine in us, we shall hide our true face of defeat and disappointment.

Bleak writing, I say, because...well, of everything above.  Our life as we chronicle it in our writing is going from one fateful station to another, with (if you are lucky) transient relief, unsure conquest, fleeting comfort in between.  There is no real destiny for us, only struggle after struggle, questions but no quest.

I woke up at 4 this morning to a possible solution to the leak on my roof, a thought I will put to test by noon today when I climb up again.  I am quite sure I was wrong.  There is a great chance that I will not find what I am looking for.

I only pray that grace will find me.

Yours, Alex