Cast Off

Man cannot discover new oceans unless he has the courage to lose sight of the shore.
– Andre Gide

Why is it that we hang on to the idea of certainty – that we continually search for safe haven? Do we believe this will bring us joy, peace, and ultimate fulfillment? When I consider those things I know for certain, they bring me more stress than not.

What I know for certain is most of you like me, will one day need a root canal or at least a filling or a crown. You will see the price of gas rise and still need to fill up your car, you will have taxes to pay and familial or civic duties to fulfill. The population of the world will continue to expand more quickly than resources will renew, and with some certainty during your lifetime, you will require ultrasound detection, an echocardiogram to track blood flow, or an exotic potion to cure a broken heart.

Yes, I would like to know for certain that I will always have a roof over my head, food to eat, good health, stimulating relationships, and lasting love. Most of us try desperately to achieve this static state believing that it will be a final destination where we can unpack and relax. But rough seas and uncertainty can often make us feel more alive. Andre Gide’s paradoxical truth reminds us that only when we have the courage to leave the familiar can we expand our experience and live more fully.

Many people come to me for guidance to write their memoir or publish a novel. They say they know the story or have an outline and just need help to craft it. When I suggest that an outline is like a coloring book, and perhaps they should forget the road map and just write, I see the confusion in their eyes. I say, “OK you could start with an outline and fill it in and you will have a fine coloring, but you will never know what it might have been.” The likelihood is they have the situation, the events, i.e. the plot. Most people set out to write what they know, but they end up writing what they don’t know. You can’t make a promise to your reader at the beginning until you have discovered what you will deliver in the end. That is the kind of discovery that has brought us great novels like The English Patient by Michael Ondaatje, poems rich with language and sensual imagery, and other fine works of art. “It’s a discovery of a story when I write a book,” Ondaatje says, “a case of inching ahead on each page and discovering what’s beyond in the darkness, beyond where you’re writing.” And, “I think I knew very early on that if I knew how a poem was going to end, that poem was not going to be very good.”

So I say, create a little uncertainty in your life and art because there is undue stress involved in maintaining certainty. And you may say, “That doesn’t make any sense.” And I will say, yes! “The chief enemy of creativity is ‘good’ sense,” according to Picasso.

So perhaps you will consider the idea of casting off. Go in search of the story you don’t yet know and I promise not to ask you, “Does this make sense?” Whenever someone spews that baited question at me, my eyes glaze over and I drift. I hope these ramblings on exploration will find you well ¬– and don’t make too much sense! I also hope you will decide to chance it – lose sight of the shore and sail off on a brave voyage to uncharted oceans.