Month: June 2017

This morning, I pondered about my writing and writing in general. I started with the subjects I write about and how I look at them. I follow with how prior experiences of writing influence my writing now. Like most humans, I continue doing what I have done earlier without reflecting. It is automatic. The older I get, the more difficult it is to abandon such an automated procedure. The same goes for language, style and way of writing. I have formed these habits in certain surroundings. They have reached a certain legitimacy as each surrounding has accepted the outcome. Then my soul says to myself: ”I have done what I ought to do”. In my professional life, my texts have been about technical subjects and scientific contributions. Since 1967, I have been writing the material using computers and keyboards.

Another major field in my writing experience is to write a daily journal. It covered both personal and professional subjects and problems. I wrote it by hand and in black notebooks, exclusively. In my attic, there are several large boxes filled with them. Will I ever read them once more?

During later years, I have also written poetry. At first, I did it sporadically. During later twelve years I have done it on a regular basis with three to four poems every second week. I am a member of a group of amateur poets. We meet once every fortnight. For these occasions, we have created a few new poems each. We read them out loud to each other and receive comments.

Later experiences of writing concern free writing. I take part in a group of people that push themselves to write at least 500 words a day. Every day, we announce how many words we wrote on a closed group on Facebook. We give each other encouraging likes and comments. We salute each other in keeping at it. Sometimes we also announce what we have written and wait for a response. Even these reactions are positive.

I have attended this group for almost three years. I write in English as most people in the group do. My native tongue is Swedish. The result is a lot of words rotating at the hard drive without being capable of taking care of themselves. I do also wonder how I might take care of them. After attending this for more than 1000 days, I question: ”have my writing developed and how”? Or should I label my hard drive “a dustbin”, although rotating at high speed? Should I allow the words to reach eternal rest through the sewage system they call the Internet?

The other day I did put my digital world aside. At least for a few hours. I wrote by hand using a fountain pen and a notebook. I wrote in Swedish. I experienced a top flow and a real coherence in what I wrote. But soon I did rejoin the mist of the digital world and translated my text into English. Later I edited it several times and published it on my blog. I was happy when I found that my closest friends in this Facebook group reacted on my writing. They gave me well-thought reactions full of insights. Finally!

I have longed for this all my life. I experience someone out there who wants to react with more than polite ”likes” or ”comments”. I interpret it as if people now act with a greater part of their personality. They allow themselves enough time to read my text through. I wish this will grow into an interactive communication in the field of how to be a decent human these days.

How do I think about my writing to come? One alternative is to do nothing more but to continue with the motto: ”just do it”, and add a bit of trust. Obstacles and difficulties are puffs that will dissolve when I come closer. I am confident that detours will show up at the last minute, just before I am about to bang my head into that wall of bricks.

In all this, I have that personality of mine. I need to drag him along and take care of him. I have some difficulties with him. He believes he encounters major obstacles of his road in life. One, possibly the worst thing about him, is that he describes himself as a victim of these barriers. Furthermore, years of psychotherapy have increased the number of issues of wich he is conscious. He has taken on a rather devastating version of being responsible for oneself. I think this has grown to a personal software that he better upgrade soon. And then I will urge him to make it happen in practice. Not just feel satisfied with a new plan stored in his mind, intended for future use.

It is easier for me to reach flow and coherence when writing by hand and in Swedish. It is also easier to listen inwards and establish a distance to other styles of writing. Even to create distance to the style I have formed when writing in my journal.

I feel as if, after a large part of my life, I am starting to open up. My trust must have reached a certain level and firmness. Now I am, to a great extent, able to hear and take in what people say. I need the other one to become a self. (As psychological statement I have listened to for years. But I have not understood the essence of).

At the end: this time I wrote in Swedish with my keyboard, not by hand. So after all my native language is of importance to me)

Göran Stille

It is midsummer. In the country where I live, this is something special. Our laws control the distribution of alcoholic liquids. A Government agency takes care of this in practice. This week, they have a hard time to get all orders distributed to us.
Finally, the sun has decided on giving us summer even at our latitudes. Tourists are beginning to arrive at our island. My soul needs calm surroundings. Now, I must search for remote locations in the woods to get it.
I have been writing with intensity for 1032 days in a row. Not just when I feel like it. But, on the average, I reach above five hundred words each day. A sudden thought made me write in English instead of my native tongue: Swedish. The liberal market economy surrounding me must have had its influence.
I believe my writing in English works well. After all, there exist software that assists me in removing most significant language errors. At least errors in spelling and design of sentences. But when it concerns subject and substance my old experience is still in charge. Writing in my journal make my soul come to rest. I reflect on what I believe is happening to me and my immediate surrounding. Social, political and worldly concerns do not consume any space.
My interest is egocentric. How do I take care of the creative vein I have. How do I make something out of it? I see others fight with the same question, so I am not that egocentric. My underlying belief is that we all have our set of obstacles and brakes that limit us. There is no broad road to creativity.
The concept of creativity itself does often lead or minds astray. We believe it is an ability that we can learn and train as we can do with most other abilities. I believe it is more of an individual mode of looking at ourselves and our personalities. At least this is the impression I have got when walking along my life path.
Now, the drive behind my writing has settled a bit. Is there a full stop ahead or time for catching my breath? I chose the latter.
In my thoughts, my engineering skills do still perform their wild dance. Roughly speaking they show: “you should do things this way. I have tried this in practice, and I have demonstrated that it does work on many occasions. It is a practical knowledge that is useful to you too!” I have encountered similar argumentation in academia. They have given practical knowledge a value in parity with knowledge based on science.
In me, the engineering attitude seems to have deep roots. It does continue to control what I write and how. I reflect on faults and errors in the piece of machinery I call me. I follow by having a concern of how I should mend my machine! Otherwise, I will never be as good and talented as all the others are.
Or what is this? Do I want to be clever? Do I want to feel that there is a fault and the fault is within me? Do I need to regard myself as a piece of machinery caught in the eyes of my engineering spectacles? – No, not anymore. I have done so for many years. I have tried that path and the consequences. I know what I have got, and did not get. Now, I want to put this well known role to the side and find a new one. You may say it is a bit late. But anyhow, I will try it. I am note yet prepared to sit on a bench in a park spreading bread crumbs to the birds. At least not for hours and every day.
Yesterday, during my writing, my associative mind directed my attention to tree stories. They were: ”The Old Man and the Sea, Don Quijote and the legend: The Flying Dutchman.” Why did my mind do this to me? To my knowledge, all these stories concern elderly men that continue too far in old tracks. They followed a pattern of practical experience into absurdity. Should I take this as a writing subject with myself as an example? No, this looks like a bit too much of hubris on my part. Do I believe, that I could reach something on this issue? To my understanding, two distinguished authors and their characters did not.
Maybe my issue is that there is no answer to how we grow old in a decent manner. Most of us operate as smooth working gears in the big production machinery. Growing old means that this time is over. We are just waiting for a coffin. But in this part of our lives, each of us has a unique challenge to be human, to be something of value. Although, we are not well prepared to address this question. We are not prepared to stay at it.
On the global level, I find that many governments seem to enter a new stage in their way to work. Going forward appears to be a critical issue. This line of thinking is clearest in France, at least in words. A lot of others are lurking around trying to go back to older times, values, conditions and attitudes. This may concern both right and left wings, market liberals and state system economists.
But, back to my track. How do I use words to sustain my forward movements? I favour letting it come as it is. Once I said: ”My desire is to be heard before I am able to speak”.
A breeze of trust in myself and the situation goes through my worn body and dusty skull. I feel as if I did just have access to a moment of ”now” with high bandwidth. I must have cleared my channels from major debris. – I better go outside and do the same to a pond in my small garden inspired by Zen.

In my blog entry named: ”How to continue my blogging” my intention was was to narrow my writing approach and to som extent relate to what did awake in me when I look one image in my previous entry. I refer to the image of a field showing plowed soil and frozen water between the ridges.
This image came to me long ago. Later on, my soul has announced this picture to me on several occasions and situations. It has resided in me as something having almost an archetypal importance. Associated with that image is being near to a lot of associations. When this happens I feel generous and resourceful.
These events come and go. Often they disappear quickly. I cannot memorize them, describe them or in any other way make me believe I own them. They do always slip away. I feel as if they have a value and if I forget them I fear I lose that value.
Yesterday, I looked at a segment of this image. Suddenly, I experienced a direct emotional reaction. It was intense. A few seconds later it disappeared. I have learned to be cautious when interpreting something like this. I need to be cautious with my interpretations. By interpreting, I apply my rational mind and leave the actual event and associated emotions. Often this first interpretation freezes and replaces the original living image. At this specific event no analysis showed up. I am happy over this.
I saw the raw and wild chunk of soil in this image and felt as if the mud wanted to tell me something. It was a split vision. In the other part, I imagined liquid water remaining under the layer of ice. Together these two elements formed a delicate entrance into a world, new to me. The world of fantasy.
My next step is to leave looking at this image and lower myself into it. Drop me into the world of a piece of soil, wildly sculptured, and start playing. In doing so I would say:
I am a bit of earth somewhere in a large field. Humans did touch me hard with a bill of steel when they prepared this area a month ago. They left me here and wanted me to stay put, waiting for next spring and the warmth of summer. I need water to be alive. This exist in nearby trenches but there it was frozen.”…..

I did also look at my blog entry through a more analytical angle. Then, I found that my attitude was too open in too many fields. I do need to narrow it down if I am ever going to achieve anything. At this time, subject and purpose are the main things I need to focus on.
Second, one element of my strategy is to get out of my old style of writing. I have been following the motto: ”just o it” and believe that i am ”banging my head into a wall of bricks”. I am unable to get around this obstacle using the intelligence I have. I need to invent some other approach.
Thirdly, I did found a possible expression of my writing goal: to reorient myself in the present world using my present level of accumulated insights.
In total I learned that my mind will think of too many thing to do before I do anything. So this approach used an analytical angle is not interesting. I will return to that feeling created when looking at the wild chunk of soil.

I did just restart writing for my blog. My present strategy in this work is to search my way forward. It concerns subject, language, style, purpose and how to keep at it. I am not conscious of why I write and how I want to do it, not yet. Maybe I have some idea hovering deep down in my subconscious. For obvious reasons, I cannot tell you anything about it.
Already some individuals may have identified an attitude in what I do. I am not teaching nor preaching about anything. Neither do I favor what I believe is right or valuable. A lot of writers do, but I don´t. For me, writing is a way to reorient myself in the present reality. In doing this, I want to have access to fresh eyes and those insights I have found along my life path. It is easy to pretend oriented on the level of words. To show it in action is not. I am aware of this. I will fall into that trap. Most humans do. I hope to detect when it has happened and withdraw.
So what is the first step I take after my previous contributions? I looked at my image of frozen water in-between ridges of soil. I presented this picture in my last blog entry. Today, my reaction to what I see is different from last night. I skipped my old interpretation of this image and related to it with direct emotions. My old analytical and mental machinery was on hold. This change in reaction occurred directly with no conscious preamble. I enjoyed this.
Yesterday, I described myself as a victim of being quick in generating helicopter views. I often do so instead of staying in what is. I may do the same today and get trapped in a blind alley. Today, the same function gave me a view that to me is positive and rewarding.
Did my writing influence this last consequence? I do not have any strong ideas about that. In writing, I have followed the motto ”just do it”. I have done so to a large extent and pushed my head into a wall of bricks. I concluded that I cannot think may way through this obstacle. I cannot make a problem out of it nor solve it with my engineering skills. I cannot pass it by following any known and proven methods or solid handrails. The content of my writing chokes me but the actual writing does not. I am fed up with it as there is no change or outcome that I can detect. I must look like a Don Quijote, the Old man and the Sea, or The Flying Dutchman as I proceed in the same old track forever. Am I to find a solution to this dilemma that neither character nor their authors managed?
Or does my writing idea concern my way of unloading from a something similar? I mean the stigma of worshipping the value of accumulated previous experiences and proceeding along the same line forever.

Göran Stille

Back in 1956 I started writing in a notebook. I still have this book in front of me.

It is 60 years since I started writing in this book. I have filled many similar books. During the years I have used them to calm my soul. I do it when any major problem turn up and jeopardize my balance. Many times writing have helped me to stay on track. Doing this, I learned a way to lift myself away from threatening events. I used this tool independent of what substance was in focus. I learned to blind myself. Some events were small, others important. I blinded them all using writing. So, in one way my growth came to a halt, although I did not notice. My mind was far out trying to mend my personality, but he never succeed.

Slowly my living came to rest in the tracks of everyday routines. My sense of being alive froze.

These images make me associate to a moment some years ago. A friend of mine told me a story. I was deeply moved. But I have no clue as to why. This is his story:

• He found himself awakening. His nose was buried in the mud. It is pitch dark. He cannot see anything. He felt his chin against the cold, wet mud. He slowly raises his head, and can see beyond the nearby ridge of soil. At first, he does not see anything whatsoever. After several minutes, he identifies groves of ground disappearing into the darkness. He concludes that he was laying on his stomach far out on a large field newly plowed. At a distance, he sees the edge of a forest. At least he thinks so. Black silhouettes of pine trees are barely distinguishable from the dark blue night sky. His head is fully perplexed. He does not retrieve any thought or memory on how he came here and why. Furthermore, he does not have any idea as to where he was going? His only memory is that this scene and field is similar to a real image from a field near to a small town about 150 kilometers from Stockholm, Sweden.

This dream intrigued me and still do. I cannot get it out of my head. I wonder how he interpreted his dream and how I do it? He told me this story about 20 years ago. I remember it as if he told it to me yesterday.

My thought about the dream is that it has something to do with leaving a lifestyle where he continues in deeply engraved tracks. He did not carry anything with him in terms of memories and direction across from early life to after the transition. It is pitch dark around him and he cannot orient himself at all. He is starting from zero, completely naked.