Warring Twins and the Writing that Breathes . . .

So already, unlike Walt Whitman, I don't "contain multitudes." But I do "contradict myself."* That's because I contain opposing twins, both of whom feel entitled to speak for and as me. While I'm asleep, they vie with each other for the prize of spinning the upcoming day's narrative, with all of its attendant facts and feelings. I wake up each morning not knowing which of them has won--and for the rest of the day, I speak entirely from the perspective of the winner, ceasing to remember that the other twin even exists.

Okay. Maybe I'm getting a little too Jacob-and-Esau** for you. Maybe you're thinking that what I'm experiencing is really just a matter of "What a Difference a Day Makes." 

 

But when you write things that you want other people to read and believe, contradictions--sanguine as Walt Whitman is about them--and  misrepresentations of fact can be a real problem. When you detect them, you need to set the record straight. If you're lucky, they will announce themselves to you with screeching clarity when you reread what you wrote, and suddenly hear yourself say, "Wait--that's not true." If you're lucky, they will reveal themselves to you before others detect them. 

 

And some misrepresentations of truth may matter only to you. I detected such a personally important misrepresentation yesterday morning when I decided to write in my journal about the blog I'd posted the day before. Rereading my blog about being in a writing drought, I agreed with its facts: yes, I'd drafted only two poems and posted no blogs in the last two months. But then I looked at the journal in my hand, and realized that I'd written more than two hundred pages in it since late May.***

 

In opposing twin terms, the twin who blogged Sunday afternoon had focused exclusively on my public writing and concluded that I'd barely written in the last couple of months, while the the twin who'd paid attention to my private writing believed I'd written constantly, plentifully, even joyfully all summer long. Hmmm . . .

 

I told my husband Scott about my opposing twin perspectives that had revealed themselves on consecutive days. When I ask for his counsel, which I often do, he routinely tells me that I spend too much time worrying about what I am doing and not enough time immersing myself in the topic or idea that's grabbed my imagination. He suspects I  get in the way of poems waiting to emerge from me.

 

This time, Scott said much of what he usually says. But a piece of advice he gave and a question he asked made strong impressions on me. "If you're standing at the edge of the water, stop looking at your toes and keep looking at the water," he advised. "Just see what happens."

 

Then he asked me, "You know how writing in your journal seems so natural and easy to you? What if you wrote poems and blogs more the way the you write in your journal?"

 

I liked the advice embedded in his question. Trying to write blogs and poems has been tying me in knots in the last couple of months.**** Writing in my journal, in contrast, has felt like being and breathing. Anything goes. Repetition is okay. Saying it again to say it better is okay. Saying it again tomorrow and the next day is also fine. Playing with language is okay. No worrying. No immediate revising. No disappointment and doubt. Definite immersion. Emotion and thought given free rein.

 

Here's a passage from my journal that is written with so much more freedom, abandon, and force than my last blog post, which it inspired.

I am killing poems. Watering them with acid. Snuffing them with drought. I just wrote that because I began reading the book that Scott gave me [Margo Jefferson's Constructing a Nervous System: A Memoir], and I am thinking about the incisions this writer [Jefferson] is making. Questioning poems that shoot up. Plucking poems from the soil so they dry and die. Thinking poems are thoughts but not poems. Doubting sparks that might be poems. Drowning sparks that might be poems. I am become drought. I scorch and singe, enemy of shoots and leaves, denied the chance to unfurl. . . . I am scorched Earth, and nothing grows in scorched Earth, at least not immediately [I was thinking about Mount St. Helens]. Maybe I'll write a blog post called "Scorched Earth Poet."

But as you may know, instead of writing "Scorched Earth Poet," I wrote "Hoping for August Rain." Yawn. And if you're laughing at me, I understand: this post is all about the "I" whom Scott keeps bidding me to stop examining and worrying about. Old habits are hard to break. And by the way, I recommend Margo Jefferson's intelligent, electrifying, enlightening book.

And now another setting of the record straight. I don't contain warring twins. It was just much more fun to write about them than to discuss the possible reasons for a change in viewpoint. 

Truthfully, I don't want to give up on the warring twins idea too soon. The story of Jacob and Esau, who eventually reunite lovingly despite a lot of bad blood between them, is just the kind of topic I can run with for days.***** 

Meanwhile, even though my private writing and public writing have not been at war with each other, I like the idea of my private-writing practices entering the public writing sphere and breathing some much-needed life into my parched poems and blog posts. I may write "Scorched Earth Poet" after all. Or not.

* Photo embedded in the recovgirl. (2015, June 26). I contain multitudes. Recovering Girl, WordPress. https://recoveringgirl.com/2015/06/26/i-contain-multitudes/

** "A depiction of the power struggle between Jacob and Esau" by Yoram Ranaan accompanying Kesselman, S.C. (2020) Jacob and Esau in the Bible. Chabad.org/ Chabad Lubavitch Media Center. https://www.chabad.org/library/article_cdo/aid/3840330/jewish/Jacob-and-Esau-in-the-Bible.htm

*** I got into the habit of journaling this summer because a friend/colleague and I had been required to write morning pages as part of doing Julia Cameron's six-week course Seeking Wisdom: A Spiritual Path to Creative Connection. I'm planning to blog about this experience sometime soon. 

**** Adjacent painting from Jeffrey Marshall's 2015 exhibition at the Cape Ann Museum: Marshall, J. (2015, January 15-March 29). Knots: Drawings and Paintings by Jeffrey Marshall: Square Knot 2. Cape Ann Museum. https://www.capeannmuseum.org/exhibitions/knots-drawings-and-paintings-jeffrey-marshall/

***** Painting--for sale--by Steffi Rubin: Rubin, S. (2022, May 23). Genesis 33: Esau Ran to Meet  Jacob. SteffiRubinJewishArt, Etsy. https://www.etsy.com/listing/279137222/genesis-33-esau-ran-to-meet-jacob?ga_order=most_relevant&ga_search_type=all&ga_view_type=gallery&ga_search_query=Genesis+33&ref=sc_gallery-1-1&frs=1&plkey=077fc2f94c0ff91383e61f55ff4d628967d04b9b%3A279137222