Writing

I look at Henri Nouwen's huge body of work and compulsion to write and I think "Now here is a writer. Perhaps I am not built to be a writer after all. After all I often feel a reluctance to write, and lack ideas."  Today I read these words from Henri, and am encouraged:

Writing, however, is often the source of great pain and anxiety. It is remarkable how hard it is for many students to sit down quietly and trust their own creativity. There seems to be a deep-seated resistance to writing. I have experienced this resistance myself over and over again. Even after many years of wnung, I experience real fear when I face the empty page. Why am I so afraid? Sometimes I have an imaginary reader in mind who is looking over my shoulder and rejecting every word I write down. Sometimes I am overwhelmed by the countless books and articles that already have been written, and I cannot imagine that I have anything to say that has not already been said better by someone else. Sometimes, it seems that every sentence fails to express what I really want to say, and that written words simply cannot hold what goes on in my mind and heart. These fears not seldom paralyze me and make me delay or even abandon my writing plans.

And still every time I overcome these fears and trust not only my own unique way of being in the world, but also my ability to give words to it, I experience a deep spiritual satisfaction. I have been trying to understand the nature of this satisfaction. What I am gradually discovering is that in the writing I come in touch with the Spirit of God within me and experience how I am led to new places. 

Most students of theology think that writing means writing down ideas, insights, or visions. They are of the opinion that they first must have something to say before they can put it on paper. For them, writing is little more than recording preexistent thoughts. But with this approach: true writing is impossible. Writing is a process in which we discover what lives in us. The writing itself reveals to us what is alive in us. The deepest satisfaction of writing is precisely that it opens up new spaces within us of which we were not aware before we started to write: To write is to embark on a journey of which we do not know the final destination. Thus writing requires a great act of trust. We have to say to ourselves: "I do not yet know what I carry in my heart, but I trust that it will emerge as I write."

Nouwen encourages me to make a daily practice of writing - regardless as to whether I feel I have anything to say. I can simply make a start of it and see what comes from the hidden parts of me.