Friday, June 25, 2010

Deep Down in a Writing Cave

I'm chasing a neon purple dragon around in a dark underground labyrinth. Okay, fine. What I'm really doing is working away on a fantasy novel that has been simmering in my imagination for a long while. It's pretty scary down here in this first draft labyrinth. I'm not sure that my writing can capture the characters and the story very well, but I do believe that it has the potential to be a very fun and very good story.

Word goal today: 2,000
Current progress: 1,486

I'm enjoying the work, and trying to keep at it, even when I get wobbly.

A thought for today about the tao of being mormon: I think the most valuable thing I get from having some taoist ways of looking at religion is that I don't get at all stressed or care that much about whether or not religious ideas are true. All religious thinking, for me, is a lot like listening to good music or reading good fiction. I don't think it's likely that there is a man in the sky somewhere who created everything and who will one day judge us. In fact, I find this proposition just about as preposterous as the proposition that there is a tribe of holy purple pandas in the sky that sit around making jokes about all of us silly, sorry humans.

But, even though I don't see any convincing evidence pointing to the existence of a higher holy being, I do adore the story of a Grandfather God (how I usually refer to and think of the Mormon God). I even pray to him sometimes. It's very similar to another story I love, the story of the magical powers that keep me extra warm whenever I wear the blue scarf that my grandma crocheted. In fact, there's a chance that that particular scarf actually makes me physically more warm because I really do believe that my grandma's love was stitched into it. And a mere awareness of being surrounded by grandma-love probably has very real physical manifestations. Many religious stories give me similar kinds of comfort and hope. Yeh, they are just stories, of course. But which of all the bazillion thoughts and beliefs that I hold so dear are anything but stories? And those purple pandas, with their big kind eyes and soft fur and jiggly bellies, when I imagine them laughing at my self-pity, and my frustratingly human need to be in complete control of everything all the time, how can I help but laugh at myself too?

1 comment:

Christmas2008 said...