Meaning without Meaning

When I first started writing and blogging (more than 8 years ago), I could say anything—highs, lows, blurts & brags. It was anonymous, fluid and raw. I would wake up in the morning—random days, nothing planned or scheduled—and simply check in with myself. What did I want to say? It was like asking what I'd share with a dear friend—one who wouldn't censor or judge. If I could say anything, what would I say today?

Sinkyone WildernessUncensored, I'd likely talk about relationships I have that are so mind-bogglingly confusing I want to scream. I'd confirm again and again that life can suck and some days I get freakin' tired of trying to smooth things out and make the best of everything. I'd whine a little and say, "Things shouldn't have to be so damn hard!" And on the flip side, if I could find the words, I'd share the beauty I know that comes from simply letting go and allowing life to happen. We/You/I don't always have to make sense of everything, do we?

I've spent years learning to make meaning of life through therapy, graduate school, coach training, yoga, books, conversations, and essays. I've also spent more decades than I care to count not paying attention. I sometimes call those the "lost years." I wonder how they resemble the Lost Coast I visited recently? Is there phenomenal beauty within them just waiting to be revealed? Do I really have to do anything... or is merely driving down the bumpy road and opening my eyes all it takes for discovery?

There's a difference between not paying attention or letting life go by unnoticed (like my "lost years") and allowing life to happen while being intentional and present. It's all about what we make it mean... but today I'm taking a break from meaning making. So what would I write if I didn't need to know or explain what it means?

soul sisterI'd write that I'm afraid. Afraid time is passing too quickly and I'll have nothing to show for it—no blog posts, clients, awards, sales, engagements, whatever. But wait a minute, "meaning" is important here. What am I making those things mean? Who gets to attach meaning to my life? Only me... even though I know others may try... because the search for meaning is what we naturally do—whether we realize it or not.

If I don't knowingly, willingly search (or write blog posts, schedule engagements, etc.) does that mean my life is meaningless? Only if that's how I decide to interpret it. I'm the one who attaches meaning to and for my life. Do others need to understand what I'm saying for me to find meaning? Not really. Do I need to understand myself? Maybe, and if so... How much "understanding" is enough? Hmmmm. I love that I'm invested in my own search for meaning, but what I do know about myself is just a drop in the ocean. Carl Jung said we are each like a cork bobbing on the sea of our subconscious. There is soooo much we'll never know or understand, so I say it's okay to take a break and quit trying to make everything mean something. It's an impossible task so why not let go and just "be"?

Being... wu wei wu (doing without doing) is my favorite form of being. How can I do without doing? What do I want to say without trying? Today, I'm tired of making meaning. It scrambles my brain. Aslan, my feline muse, doesn't try to make meaning. He goes for what he wants—snuggles, food, a nap or belly rub. What do I want, plain and simple? In this moment, I want to write... to take these jumbled up words, type them into my computer, tweak them just a little, add a few pictures, and then toss them out into the world... just like the old days, without worry about other's interpretations—raw, uncensored, without defined meaning—because the words are what they are.

Writing helps me find meaning (whether I plan it or not, "wu wei wu"). It's like planting random seeds or digging in the dirt, I never know what might turn up. I write to discover what I know and some days I just need to write without "knowing" (or making meaning.)

Comments

[Dianna]

Seems logical to me. Somedays I just read others' comments on blogs, on face books, in the newspaper and wonder "why did they write that?"........and usually I come up with the fact that they, too, like you today just needed to write for themselves and found others' opinions to be non-essential to the act of their own writing.

These days, I generally write to promote my art:) which is ever so fulfilling for me today - not the writing - rather the art:)

Whoops, nap time for me now - another one of those "just for me" things:) xo