PEOPLE TELL ME THINGS

People tell me things, and I write. What kinds of things do people tell me? Things that are true, made up, funny, sad, crazy, joyful, tragic, secret things and sacred things.

    There are stories of hard-won knowledge and transformation. I hear beliefs, doubts, regrets, hope, illusions, longing, magical thinking and despair. I notice a gesture, a gaze, a facial expression, a mood.  At the time, I am not thinking that I will write about what people are telling me, and I may never write most of what I hear, but I am truly interested, so I listen. I empathize. I learn. I am enlightened. I remember.

    Later, sometimes much later, when I am in moments of inspiration, I seem to free associate in a compilation of what I have heard, my own experience and frame of reference  (mythology, literature, history, psychology, etc.). I may see a pattern or theme in people’s lives, as I try to see in my own. I interpret, intuit, dramatize, expand, magnify and integrate in the throes of the creative process, ultimately touching on relatable experience about being human.

    Dante Allighieri wrote about the medieval tradition of interpreting story on four levels, which can be applied to experiences in life as well. There is the literal - the reality of a story; the allegorical - what a story represents symbolically; the moral - a story's ethical implications or lessons; the analogical - what it is like, the metaphorical aspects, that which rises to philosophical, spiritual, universal realms. I may tap into this kind of interpreation, but not methodically--more or less in a subconcious way, but always with a wish to convey the profundity of truth therein. It just happens that when I am writing--being moved along by what and from where I don’t know--what I have heard starts to appear as poetry or story.

    I love when this happens, a flowing forth without conscious intention, taking a form and shape of its own. I do not feel, though I have wondered, if I violate a trust, even though what develops is a compilation, a blending of  stories sifted through and expanded upon through my imagination and inspiration. I suppose if people who have shared things with me recognize their words, actions as parts of their story, they may feel betrayed or offended. I would hope not. A writer's task has always been to lay bare the human condition and, in some cases, to "rescue the dead [and forgotten] from obscurity."

    Writers bear witness.

    Fabulist Italo Cavino noted, “A classic is a book that never finishes what it has to say.” And so it is with our lives—filled with meaning that writers pass on, paying tribute to those who have shared their stories. Thus, collectivly, writers reveal, again and again, in all its variety and forms--the human condition--which also never finishes what it has to say.

    For while the tale of how we suffer, and how we are delighted and how we may triumph is never new, it always must be heard. There isn’t any other tale to tell. It’s the only light we’ve got in all this darkness (James Baldwin).

     

    People tell me things, and I write.