I took the Jordan Peterson personality test a few years ago, and it revealed to me that I had an extraordinarily high score for conscientiousness. Last year, I downloaded the Co-Star app to my phone, and according to my birth chart I have a strong desire to be seen as a good person.
If you know me a little from my work, you’ll have seen me express the wish to reach out to other people with my poems and occasional collage art. At first, I created to express how difficult it is to live with a chronic illness, but I soon jumped on every -ism bandwagon that came carting by on social media. Because I CARE. Very much so. It hurts me to care so much.
After three years of being led around and around, I decided to try to get out of the woundology parade and direct my work toward what was ailing humanity and our planet. I wanted to pull the focus off myself, to take myself out of the equation. When I came across the concept of Thrutopia, I was thrilled to have found something that would help me channel my writing and art in a positive way.
A few weeks ago, I started the Thrutopia course for writers, hosted by Manda Scott. The course is incredibly interesting and inspiring, and I would especially recommend it to writers of speculative fiction who want to learn about social organisation and technology that can help create “the future world that we all want to live in.” When you combine this knowledge of what’s possible with post-heroic story structure that mythologist Sharon Blackie often talks about, you can inspire people to come together and change the system from within.
This beautiful message spoke to my heart and my ego. Here’s a chance to write and be creative AND be a good person at the same time. The trouble is, however, that I’m not (yet) a believer. I’m much too sceptical to believe that we can hold back a dystopian future.
I have been feeling frustrated and selfish. It seems that what I really want to do is just to express myself. My thoughts, my opinions, my own narrow experience.
On his deathbed, my father said to me, “Is this it? I thought there would be more,” and I feel cursed by his words.
It also seems to me that in the western middle class world focus has shifted from having a good career to leading a life of purpose and meaning. One Venn diagram that is shared widely on social media is a complete misinterpretation of ikigai.
Has this trend hijacked my innate traits and sent me spiralling? Does divination with tarot or I Ching make things worse for my somewhat neurodivergent mind by presenting answers that I can immediately interpret in a least three contradictory ways? Yes, and yes.
So, readers... I’m in hiding. I’m burrowing under, just letting out a poem here and there. I’m not ready to choose any definite direction for my creative work. I’m not ready to commit to any direction in my life in general. I’m choosing to be a little obscure.
Ode to obscurity
to be obscure; to burrow in the dark, dank soil, toiling with dirt under nails; to be without light, new to this kind of work; A small mole with velvet skin rubbing against the blush caliche; to zigzag to the russet centre of the universe, navigating by the scent of edible comets; filling up every few hours, sleeping every few hours; sometimes fetal, a curlicue without a page to land on; paths running in every direction, following thoughts; finally orienting to a lump of sky like an ice cube tossed, a clear blue dice; to emerge from obscurity as yourself, as a leap of faith.
So beautiful, Conny. There is so much emphasis on ‘direction’ and ‘knowing’ in our world l think people have forgotten the purpose of hibernation and the power of mystery 🧡
I’m going to re-read the article about the Ikigai. I had the popular wrong understanding of it and want to know more. I think winter is the perfect time to go deeper into your own creativity and exploration. There’s absolutely no rush it. Your poetry surprises and enlightens me. Every time.