The Act of Writing

I want to write. I am compelled to write. I want to write on this blog and say all sorts of interesting things about the surpassing great revelations of the twilight hours and other times.

The act of writing is an act of self-reflection. Like Dumbledore in Harry Potter, who draws memories out of his head, keeps them in phials, and lays them out for others to see – the writer draws words and ideas from his or her head and lays them out in readable fashion. Is this act of separation a breaking, tearing act? Yet another splitting of my soul-self, which I am trying so hard to hold together? Is the joy of self-forgetfulness to be denied the writer?

On the other hand, praise God, the act of writing forces me to come out into the light of my community. I observe, order, filter, and offer back thoughts in colour to those around me, thus defining myself as belonging to you, the soul-people, and identifying myself in the here and now. I’ll keep trying not to hide. I’ll keep trying to write.

Love

If you asked twenty good men today what they thought the highest of the virtues, nineteen of them would reply, Unselfishness. But if you asked almost any of the great Christians of old he would have replied, Love. You see what has happened? A negative term has been substituted for a positive, and this is of more than philological importance. The negative ideal of Unselfishness carries with it the suggestion not primarily of securing good things for others. but of going without them ourselves, as if our abstinence and not their happiness was the important point. I do not think this the Christian virtue of Love. The New Testament has lots to say about self-denial, but not self-denial as an end in itself.