I have done a fair bit of writing over the past several years. Regrettably, I have published here on blogger, some not-so-note-worthy sentimental swill. You know what I mean, don't you? The kind of stuff that once chewed, remains remnant like in the teeth and has to be scrapped off, toothpick-ed out because it was sticky and stuck-y.
I just read some of that kind of drivel; fortunately, it was not personally produced hog wash... some other character came up with it and I had the displeasure of reading it, all the way until the end. As the joke goes, I will never get that time back.
Searching for meaning
As I read, I was searching, hoping, picking my way through a poem with the desire to have it strike a resonant chord; I was literally, scanning for truth. I made my way to the end, or should I say the bottom, and it left me bereft of feeling. That is what song lyrics, poems, articles, print ads do, when there is nothing of substance and value contained therein: they leave us feeling nothing, nothing at all. Why though? I mean effort has gone into the writing, and somehow it leaves us flat. Other pieces of work have us elevated to heavenly heights, moved to tears and sometimes, weak in the knees: what is missing when we are not moved?
It could be me, it could be you, it could be the source or, it could be this:
Vulnerability the missing link
I have discovered that vulnerability is the missing link. When I peel back a layer and look under to the words blanketed there, intention is revealed. Writers of every ilk want to direct traffic, the people they hope to move with their words and work. What the reader and listener is waiting for is a reveal, something hidden in themselves that they had not words for: something they have been longing to express but could not feel into solo. We read and listen to be transported, taken somewhere, and perhaps, it is a desire to travel the inner and outer reaches of our own being and soul that has us open to reading and listening to others. Without the writer being vulnerable, giving intimate glimpses into their own being, the reader is left bereft, hungry still for solid soul food.
And now, there is this: Without vulnerability, there cannot be connection. You and I do not feel understood when the message conveyed has within it, a withholding, or worse yet, a manipulative feel and flavour.
So shall my word be that goes out from my mouth; it shall not return to me empty, but it shall accomplish that which I purpose, and shall succeed in the thing for which I sent it (Isaiah 55:11).
Checking intention is vital to connection. If I write, it must be for the reader, not solely for the purpose of some grandiose plan I hope to realize for my own benefit. Why would anyone choose to read the work of selfishness; of mindless muttering; of sentimental swill?
If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but have not love, I am nothing (1 Corinthians 13:1-2).
Intentionally on mission
Upon reflection, I see differently now. Vulnerability is the missing link when truth in love is absent. It is truth in love that brilliantly lights a fire in the hearts of men. Seeking and finding happens naturally, after we have become intentional in our mission to know, live and love, Truth.
I just read some of that kind of drivel; fortunately, it was not personally produced hog wash... some other character came up with it and I had the displeasure of reading it, all the way until the end. As the joke goes, I will never get that time back.
Searching for meaning
As I read, I was searching, hoping, picking my way through a poem with the desire to have it strike a resonant chord; I was literally, scanning for truth. I made my way to the end, or should I say the bottom, and it left me bereft of feeling. That is what song lyrics, poems, articles, print ads do, when there is nothing of substance and value contained therein: they leave us feeling nothing, nothing at all. Why though? I mean effort has gone into the writing, and somehow it leaves us flat. Other pieces of work have us elevated to heavenly heights, moved to tears and sometimes, weak in the knees: what is missing when we are not moved?
It could be me, it could be you, it could be the source or, it could be this:
Vulnerability the missing link
I have discovered that vulnerability is the missing link. When I peel back a layer and look under to the words blanketed there, intention is revealed. Writers of every ilk want to direct traffic, the people they hope to move with their words and work. What the reader and listener is waiting for is a reveal, something hidden in themselves that they had not words for: something they have been longing to express but could not feel into solo. We read and listen to be transported, taken somewhere, and perhaps, it is a desire to travel the inner and outer reaches of our own being and soul that has us open to reading and listening to others. Without the writer being vulnerable, giving intimate glimpses into their own being, the reader is left bereft, hungry still for solid soul food.And now, there is this: Without vulnerability, there cannot be connection. You and I do not feel understood when the message conveyed has within it, a withholding, or worse yet, a manipulative feel and flavour.
So shall my word be that goes out from my mouth; it shall not return to me empty, but it shall accomplish that which I purpose, and shall succeed in the thing for which I sent it (Isaiah 55:11).
Checking intention is vital to connection. If I write, it must be for the reader, not solely for the purpose of some grandiose plan I hope to realize for my own benefit. Why would anyone choose to read the work of selfishness; of mindless muttering; of sentimental swill?
If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but have not love, I am nothing (1 Corinthians 13:1-2).
Intentionally on mission
Upon reflection, I see differently now. Vulnerability is the missing link when truth in love is absent. It is truth in love that brilliantly lights a fire in the hearts of men. Seeking and finding happens naturally, after we have become intentional in our mission to know, live and love, Truth.
