Sometimes I realize that I am stuck thinking other people’s thoughts. People’s thoughts on music, their opinions on movies, even their personal beliefs about other people we know. Meditating on ideas alone does not allow me to fully grasp what I think about something or someone. I often have to talk about it with someone.
Verbally sharing with someone is great. You have an external sounding board to tell you if something makes sense. Additionally, you have an internal thermometer letting you know if what you have said is correct. Talking with someone is helpful because you can traverse landscapes that are scary to go alone. You also have the benefit of knowing that this person knows you are working through the thoughts in your head and won’t judge you based on your trying to figure it out.
Another outlet for figuring out thoughts is writing. Even if I don’t post as frequently, I write often. Short things, long things, lists, everything. Writing is compulsive to me.
Writing is helpful because you can flesh out a thought in a longer, more winded way than you can with a friend. You can weave in and out of ideas, coming back to thoughts you wrote about pages ago, without so much as a transition. Things can be tangential. They can be all over the place. All of this happened on the road to writing this piece.
In addition to compulsively writing, I want to share what I write. I want to do this to not feel as alone and in hopes that it makes others feel less alone. It’s hard because I have to polish what I write so that when it is read it is clear what I mean. I don’t have someone saying, “I don’t get it” to my face, making me rethink how to express my thoughts. This is what leads to the scary part. The fear of judgment.
Growing up in men’s locker rooms you notice something. All the boys cover their bodies, while the older men let it hang loose. It wasn’t that they wanted you to notice their bodies. They just didn’t care if you did. People could silently judge them, but they didn’t feel judged.
In writing and then sharing, I feel like I’m in the locker room as an emerging adult. I relate to the boys who want to cover up, but also to the older men. It’s a tetherball match with myself. Part me hits the ball saying “I CANNOT FEEL JUDGMENT.” The rope wraps almost all the way up the pole, enough for me to press send on this essay. BUT, at the last moment I hear, “What if someone judges me?” and the ball is hit back the other way. This back and forth continues until I just say “Someone will judge me, and it’s okay if I feel judgment.” And I press send.
Figuring out your thoughts takes time and patience. Originally this was a post about following your muse, process over destination, and compulsion. I realize now that it is a post about getting you to try writing.
Distilling your thoughts is not easy. It is not something we’re made to do anymore. We are no longer forced to write five page essays on books and plays like The Crucible. But it is a practice that adds value to one’s life. Journaling is a great place to start. Set a timer for five minutes and just write. I bet you’ll find yourself going past the buzzer.
Recommended ‘tent
History Report (Simon Rich/New Yorker) - Simon Rich is an amazing humorist who I love. He put out this story recently and it hits hard.
50 Ways to Brighten Your Day - Try one!