BootsnAll Travel Network

Why continue?

Reading or listening to Eckhart Tolle , I fall silent. As Tolle observes, ego generates pointless activity, useless words. Why speak (or write)? What is there to say? Tolle questions the usefulness of thinking, feeling, and doing. Better to BE, and be part of the seamless all. That should be joyful, powerful. Instead there is this feeling of loss, confusion. I don’t mind that; I look at it. It is neither joyful nor sad. Lost. The voice of the blog falls silent. “She” (the voice) has lost her amour propre and doubts she has anything worthy to say. Worthy–that old song. Judgment arises and with it discomfort. The person who uses the pronoun “I” is disoriented, groundless, accompanied by old habits of self-judging. As this disorientation continues, I notice some sadness (the “pain body” perhaps). What will take the place of the old yawp? There was an exuberant energy in blogging, a feeling of connection with “unique visitors” on the journey at the same time. Travel notes. Now, troubled by the possibility that on some ultimate threshing ground, nothing in my life could possibly have meaning for anyone else, there is disconnection, isolation, uncertainty, as though I were suddenly dropped off in the middle of a swamp in a fog. Beautiful lighting effects, strange echoes, everything indistinct. I make my little noise. This blog. The keys on my computer echo in the quiet of my apartment. In the near distance, beyond the trees and on the surface of the expressway, I hear the roar of traffic. Around the block, at the mall, there is Christmas music playing and the slap of debit cards being swiped. I have lost the way. How interesting. Now what?

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0 responses to “Why continue?”

  1. Christopher says:

    Now what? More blogging, I hope., though cyberspace seems dead at times (I remember Lorca’s “pain of hollows in the unpeopled air”, about loneliness in NYC.) We’re here, checking in once in a while, grateful for news of your life, readings, film-watching, self-doubt, deflated amor propio.

  2. admin says:

    Ah, wonderful. A beloved voice. I was just editing that last statement when your voice arrived, a familiar sound in the fog. I turn my head toward the voice and am reassured. “Pain of hollows in unpeopled air.” Exactly right. Loneliness. That might explain this.

  3. David says:

    I check your blog everyday hoping for new entries. Your writing just lifts me up, makes me feel that life is good. I love the way you wrote about the pansies on your balcony. You make the simple sublime. You make life seem so…worth it. I love reading about your search for a new home in a Buddhist center, but I worry that you won’t be able to write these entries if you enter a monastery. Thank you. You are bringing joy to many with your gift.

  4. Constance says:

    You continue because that is the way through the lostness and the loneliness. Isn’t the the opposite of lost “found?” Don’t we just have to continue to get to the other side of whatever feelings we have and on our way be a beacon to other sojourners? Now that you know where I am . . .

  5. Lynda says:

    Well, I’m a complete stranger who happened upon your blog when you were preparing for your trip to Portugal and were delighted you’ve continued it since. I find it wise and thoughtful, and often find myself saying, “yes, yes, yes!” in response to your entries. Your writing feels like a calm, meditative space in the chatter of the internet. Why speak or write? I’m sure I’m not the only faraway person who looks forward to a new entry.

    And practically speaking, from my own experience, one’s enthusiasm for blogging waxes and wanes, and one’s frequency and dedication can follow that enthusiasm. But I really hope you don’t stop writing!

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