Falling Out, Falling In

I could, of course, resume my habit of daily writing. All it takes is a simple decision. Yet I don’t recall having decided not to write every day. Rather, I fell out of the habit, as one falls out of the habit of any form of daily exercise, such as walking, running, stretching, lifting weights, and so on. Writing, looked at one way, is also a form of exercise, and a beneficial one at that. Looked at another way, it’s a craft, an art. In still another way, it’s a means of communication with others and with oneself. And it’s a furtherance of the English language, in my case, and of language in general. Granted, we don’t usually think of ourselves as having any profound or direct influence on the languages we use; it might be said, even, that our respective languages use us to further themselves. However we look at it, writing is a valuable, very human thing to do; possibly, it even keeps us human, at least as human as we’ve thus far come to see and understand ourselves. But here I must remind myself that if I don’t write, I’m no less human, and that there are other habits I might cultivate which would have a far more beneficial affect on me, and on all of us collectively: kindness, for instance. I can write every day for the rest of my life, but that writing will be worth little if I don’t also practice the habit of kindness. This is obvious, yet how many writers forget this basic precept, and write as if they alone exist in the world, and their thoughts and feelings are the only ones that matter? To these writers, and to myself, I’ll say that kindness in writing is perhaps best shown by knowing where to end; and wisdom, by knowing when not to begin.

[ 2031 ]