Chase A Ghost [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

The question came in through our site from a man who was instrumental in Kerri’s decision to record her compositions. A voice from her past asking a good question.

There are many surface answers to his question. In our case, all would be applicable: to give voice to our thoughts, to build a community, to call attention to our work…This morning, as I ponder his question, I think the purpose of a blog, my blog, might be to chase ghosts.

I began blogging utterly convinced that I had very little of value to say. I’d never considered myself to be a writer. It was a challenge I set for myself. Actually, I had one thing to say and decided I would, every day, attempt to write about it until I ran out of gas. I calculated that the tank would run dry in less than seven days. I was chasing the elusive ghost known as voice. My voice.

The interesting thing about ghost-chasing is that it makes you pay attention to everything. Ghosts can come at you in an instant from any direction and disappear just as quickly. Sometimes you can’t see them at all but feel intensely their icy presence. That was the first thing I learned in my voice-ghost-pursuit: I was paying careful attention, inside and out. It was not intense, not a strain or a struggle. I didn’t have to try. It was natural.

Not surprisingly, paying attention gave me more and more to write about, more to reflect upon. More to offer. “Have you seen this? Do you understand it?”

Chasing ghosts is a great question stimulator. Ghosts are curious and require all manner of suspension of disbelief so they are also terrific curiosity-energizers. Among the first line of questioning is about your self: your perceptions, your beliefs, your ideas of who you are and who you are not. It’s nearly impossible to write about others without exposing your self. Voice chasing leads to an astounding realization: the self/other boundary is permeable. We come to know ourselves relative to how well we know others. We only know our voice because someone out-there is listening and, hopefully, giving voice in return. Contrast principle.

Our basement is unusual in that it has box-after-box of unsold CD’s – the hard evidence of the music industry making a quick pivot to streaming services. The stacks of my unsold paintings take up an entire room. Our filing cabinets are filled with ideas and manuscripts and songs-not-yet-recorded. There are folios of cartoons that didn’t quite make it to syndication, folios of ink gestures, watercolors, and sketches. Another kind of ghost: the work of years past. When we met and married, we began blogging together, originally to try and call attention to the voice-of-work-past-but-not-yet-sold. That ghost, a very sad ghost, quickly left us; the joy of writing together each day overcame the initial intention.

The joy of writing together. We no longer chase the ghost of voice. It was here all along (of course). Now-a-days, we pursue a much simpler spirit: the gift of paying attention, the pure surprise of what shows up when we dive into and write about our daily prompt. “You go first,” I say, since she is wiggling with excitement to read what she just wrote.

read Kerri’s blog about WHAT IS A BLOG?

like. share. support. comment (give voice). we thank you for any and all.

buymeacoffee is lending your voice in support of our voice so we can lend our voice to your voice. It’s a circle.

Take A Walk With Me

625. Join me in inspiring truly powerful people. Each day I will add a new thought, story or idea to support your quest and mine.

It is late and I am in my studio. There is a train blowing its whistle somewhere in the distance. The building is quiet at this hour. Mark, the building caretaker, tells me there is a ghost and that he wouldn’t be caught dead in the building this late at night. I’ve been here deep into the night on several occasions and I have yet to encounter the ghost. I want to meet it – her, so Mark tells me. She usually hangs out in the attic but will wander the halls if she gets restless. I suppose a restless ghost is less appealing to meet than a non-restless ghost. In my mind, however, every ghost is restless; being a ghost implies that you are stuck in an “in-between” state, a limbo, like being perpetually in an airport and even the most even-tempered ghost must get tired of the long flight delay. When I am a ghost I will tap my foot and ask, “Where’s my plane?”

I have been in a limbo the past few years and, consequently, a kind of ghost. I think this evening I was compelled to come late to the studio to seek advice. Do you know you are wandering the halls or is there a world of illusion that we, the living, cannot see? Assuming that you see it, is there an obvious way out or do you simply step into the sun? And, if you step into the sun, do you disappear? Is that what keeps you in the attic, the fear of disappearing? Is limbo really better than commitment to action?

I am not a very good ghost. Restlessness is fun for a while but sooner or later every ghost must ask, “I wonder what is out there?” I’m not good at wandering halls though I seem to have lots of practice at it. I need the sun. The sun needs me.

As I sit here waiting for my ghost to appear I’ve decided that I no longer need her advice. If she came in the door, instead of saying, “I have a few questions for you,” I’d hold out my hand and say, “Take a walk with me. Don’t you think it is time?”