Not writing when you feel the need to write is like adding all of the layers of an onion back onto the onion one at a time with super glue. Then the onion becomes much more difficult to peel the next time around. Sometimes you forget about a layer. Sometimes you can’t remember the amazing concept or idea you wanted to get down. Sometimes multiple layers come off at a time instead of each one individually. Sometimes they never come off at all. When they rot from within and between the layers it becomes harder to predict where the good fruit is. When you peel an onion you’ve got to use the fruit right away or it goes bad. The onions lose a little bit of their freshness, a little bit of their luster, and a little bit of their immediacy each time. This is how the ideas we come up with behave if we leave them unwritten in our heads. Glued layers that we can’t separate or differentiate or articulate.
Actively writing on the other hand, is like peeling each of those layers one at a time and savoring and exploring each one. They are fresh, crisp, and clean. There is a rhythm to the act of peeling the thoughts away from our stubborn mind’s hold. There is satisfaction and gratification. Each layer is distinct on its own. The layers getting richer and juicier the closer to the heart of the onion you get. The layers can become anything. Sometimes you can dice them. Sometimes you can slice them thin and pickle them. Sometimes you can caramelize them and add them to pizza. I’m getting off topic.
The point is when you start peeling the onion you need to commit to using the onion. To not use the onion is a tragic waste. Think about how long it took to grow that onion from seed. You tilled the soil. Sowed the seeds according to the package. Watered them daily. Kept them moist and protected. Let the sun reach them. Let the roots grow deep. Watched the onion from your window. Hoped it was ok in the rain and cold. Watched the tops grow up towards the sky and become strong and deep green. Pillars of the accomplishment of overcoming gravity and mother nature. You watched the layers grow and the bulb get bigger and bigger and more confident and defined. From seed to Walla Walla. What an amazing process.
But then one day a squirrel breaks into your backyard and steals the onion. It’s gone. Just like that. There’s nothing you can do about it but mourn. The squirrel doesn’t care about you and the time you put in nurturing it along. Squirrels only care about noms. And it’s nobody’s fault but your own that the squirrel got your onion. You procrastinated and told yourself you’d get to it tomorrow. And the worst part is that the squirrels are a product of your own psyche. They prevent us from making use of the ideas and concepts and thoughts that grow from seed inside our hearts and minds immediately. They make us wait. One more day then I’ll get to it. They prevent us from going past fruition to contribution. And we forget what it is that we were so passionate and excited about in the first place. And then next thing we know a wiry-tailed rodent is sitting on your cedar fence gnawing away ravenously at the bulbous beauty you nourished for months.
Last year a squirrel took several of my tomatoes. Sometimes it just took big bites out of them and left the half eaten fruit on the vine. It made me so angry. It was so unfair. But it was a good reminder that I need to build stronger resistances to squirrels and birds and other predatory forces that threaten these precious things. I wouldn’t say I’ve got it down. I let other things get in the way frequently. I read my Kindle and think to myself I should be writing. I don’t even remember the last time I posted something. But today I peeled my onion and ate it raw. And I’m afraid that what I’ve written is stupid and total insanity and the few people who read my blog are going to think I’m an idiot. And maybe I am. Maybe I didn’t accomplish much or make any sense. But at least the squirrel didn’t take my onion today.
P.S. I don’t know that squirrels like onions. I do know that they like tomatoes. And they aren’t getting either of mine this year.
