Monday, March 12, 2012

rambles, letters, boggarts

this started out as a little intro to another blog post that started out as a letter, but it's a thought on its own, so here it is.

i've found that i think and process much better when i'm writing letters than when i'm trying to blog. i think it's partly because i'm trying to communicate something important to me to someone important to me - i have something that i want them to know and to understand. i'm not "writing", i'm trying to share a little piece of me with them. i have them in my head while i write. blogging and writing personal essays has always been really challenging for me (more so than academic essays or letters), because i'm not always sure why i'm writing what i'm writing. i can't find a "tone" and end up being really flippant or really pompous. it never sounds or feels like me. it has the distinct, stale aftertaste of make-believe.

i guess that this all comes down to the "authentic self" and where exactly that self is located. i hope that it's at least "hidden with christ" but when you step out of your prayer closet into the world - does your authentic self stay hidden in the closet while you act whatever part the present audience seems to like the best?

this pulls around to my boggart analogy (because i'm never going to be too old or too self-righteous or too cool to use harry potter metaphors). a boggart is a magical being that assumes the shape that the person facing it will fear the most. but the problem is that when it's in a room with a lot of people, it gets confused and CRACK! changes from CRACK! thing to CRACK! thing to thing until it pretty much blows up from confusion.

does anyone here feel like a boggart some days? you walk in a room with a lot of people, and you aren't sure what person you're supposed to be for them all so CRACK! you start changing until you sort of blow up. but that's not a problem if you take your authentic self out of the closet when you leave.

there have been very, very few people in my life that i have breathed a sigh of relief around, because finally i am not a confused and lonely boggart but a real, robust, complete human that i recognize as the self christ sees. and when i write them letters, or walk with them, or drink coffee, or sit with them and listen to adele, there's nothing that i have to be except - me, with all my silliness and selfishness and funkiness.

but i don't write yet out of that centeredness. i'd like to.

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