I recently read something by Charles Bukowski which lingered in my heart ...
“We're all going to die, all of us, what a circus! That alone should make us love each other but it doesn't. We are terrorized and flattened by trivialities, we are eaten up by nothing.”
At first, this made me reconsider what was really important in my daily life ... and then, more deeply, about whether the worry and overthinking about trivialities may be telling me something more, after all.
The counting of spoons being a slow-writ poem of the soul. The loom of trivia protecting us from secrets within ourselves that we can not yet tolerate.
As a writer, more and more these days I enjoy best exploring what appear to be trivialities, or non-magicalities. Which is perhaps not so helpful considering I write mostly in the fantasy genre. But I think Charles has it right, and also has it wrong. Certainly, I see in my own life that I become easily obsessed by things which really truly do not matter. On the other hand, in my obsessions I find my smallest self, my most frightened self, and if I can see past the things, the soul-markers, the warning flags - if I can see in to that self, there's a great opportunity for care and repair.
When it comes to stories, I find myself less interested in the great actions than the small ones - the way a hero touches light falling on an old photograph; the tangles of dry memories that drag a heroine's eyes closed. The trivial details, dead-end roads, pointless gestures, meaningless words. You know? All the nothings that make us so much.
Speaking of stories, I have a new pinterest page where I am collecting images which inspire or reflect my current work-in-progress.
The world is brown and gold, wind-wracked, cold, this morning. The blinds in one window are clattering like boat halyards. I hope your own day is lovely.