Jan Ekels (II): A Writer Trimming his Pen (1784)

Some Hand Greater Than The Writer’s
This expectation I hold that I will always possess something worth disclosing usually serves me well. Writers come to understand the redeeming power of expectation, how the otherwise trivial act of expecting often results in producing something worth disclosing. No cause-or-effect relationship actually exists, though. Something else creates the result. I sometimes believe it’s the cornering effect at work. Reduce options to one, and often, that one remaining option will seem ideally suited to whatever couldn’t have ever been intended. We speak of synchronicity but more often rely upon even greater mystery than synchronicity delivers. I could have sworn when posting this writing week’s stories that I had fallen short with every one. It was not until, as usual, I slowed down to reflect upon what I’d produced that I caught the edge I hadn’t noticed I’d created. Some hands more skilled than the writer's always work the keys. Thank you for following along with me here.

Weekly Writing Summary

I began my writing week describing how my internal dialogue performs as my personal Disk Jockey in DJ: "I never knew how I knew enough to choose the perfect song to interpret into valuable, deeper meaning in some significant moment, but I somehow knew.”

Dorothea Lange: Disc used in corn fields in California. It is drawn by seven horses. Tulare County, California (1938)

" … seems to be looking out for me."

I reflected upon how much value my continual gNattering has added. “Idling might be humankind's kindest contribution to the betterment of civilization.”

Percy J. Billinghurst: The lion and the gnat. (1900)
"The human condition demands much worrying and little changing."

I next spoke of the curious power Unspeakables hold in this world. Over us and others. This posting proved the most popular of the period. “The change happened the second the Unspeakables were spoken.”

Henri Martin: Silence (1894/97)
"Only I hold the power to counter that power … "

I then reported on an under-reported state where internal dialogue ceases for a spell, Mumming. “I should allow myself some inert time, some space within which I do not need to strive to make any difference, within which I needn't attempt to accomplish anything, a few moments where being isn't the purpose and understanding seems beside any reasonable point.

Eugène Romain Thirion: Study of the Head of the Angel for “Joan of Arc Listening to Voices” (c. 1876)
"I have no story today because I have not a thing to say to anybody …"

I admitted that my internal dialogue works in almost continuous Interpreting. “ I insist that I hold the Ethical Responsibility to make The Most Generous Possible Interpretations in the absence of better information. Better information almost always seems absent.”

Benjamin Gerritsz. Cuyp: Joseph interpreting the dreams of the baker and the butler (1630)
" … just like everybody else."

I ended my writing week sitting up through the night, waiting for storms that only threatened to arrive in NightWatch. “My convictions hold for moments before being overtaken by fresh contradiction. I cannot concoct a conclusion.”


Rembrandt van Rijn: The Night Watch (1642

This writing week felt a jumble, mirroring the weather fronts moving in and across our territory. It was not easy for me to ascribe my unsettledness to weather fronts. As usual, as typical, I took the cause upon myself and felt diminished and guilty for all I couldn’t accomplish. The internal DJ I disclosed continued serving up tunes, though, and I continued my usual gNattering, some weeks my sole contribution to anything. I witnessed the power of Unspeakables again this week. May I never forget how transforming they can become when finally, gratefully spoken. I appreciated my occasional inability to say anything and acknowledged how inept an interpreter I often seemed. My life through these darkest days of Winter might be best described and appreciated as a NightWatch, with me serving the problematic duty of contingent witness, idle until something finally happens. Thank you for following along!
©2024 by David A. Schmaltz - all rights reserved

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