excavation

i know how to complain. quite well, thank you. i know how to say what's on my mind when i feel that something needs attention or correction, like second nature.

i can be a mess, to be sure, but i am also well-versed in constructive criticism and can execute perfect form even when my opponents aren't playing fair.

it is true that i have worked diligently to complain less frequently but i always wonder if i still complain too much.

i find it near-impossible to want to bring attention to things that are good, when they are good. this is multi-faceted, this is not news. i'm uncovering the reasons why, however, because it's been difficult to give a voice to my blessings that rivals the voice i've given my grievances. often the sound of my grievances has completely overpowered that which was good, that for which i gave thanks.

this was never more evident than the other night when i started the task of gathering all of my notebooks and journals together. i am feeling the need to pare down, always in an effort to hold on to only the essential.

i have gone through other periods of purge and cleanse but in the last couple of years i started buying journals again.then i put them everywhere, in every room. carefully put away on shelves or in drawers but unorganized and all over. i was a little embarrassed but final count was something like 114, some had never been written in. i'm discarding a good portion and giving at least half of what's left away.



this is not even all of them

 

my thoughts, my story. scattered and changing shape but much the same. i read things i no longer remembered. their record, proof that memory is faulty and biased. i had written things down that i'd worked really hard to forget but there really is no such thing as the eternal sunshine of the spotless mind and i wouldn't want that anyway. however, i do want to complain less.

i was gentle with the clear display of excess. i forgave myself. i had to build a mountain to see the molehill. i ignored myself for so long that i had to repeat myself. a lot. the story is there, now the excavation begins.