Begin at the beginning

            “Begin at the beginning.”

            Back when I worked for a newspaper in western Kentucky, one of my fellow staff writers, Garth Gamblin, often interviewed people at his desk. Without fail, they would come into the newsroom, sit down and ask, “All right, where do I start?”

            “Begin at the beginning,” Garth always replied.

            Such simple advice for telling a story or recalling life's events.

            Of course, it means finding the starting point for the story. Yet, as Garth's interviewees revealed, they instinctively knew where to start. It's as if the narrative storytelling style we all learned as children becomes a homing device, enabling us to zero in on the exact point where it all began.

            Or, at least, where it begins in our minds.

            My impetus for writing this blog is simple: I write. Writing isn't just what I do; it can also be a form of therapy because it enables me to express what I often cannot say verbally.

            Which leads to a confession: I am using the blank page as the mental/emotional equivalent of a core dump.

            I don't claim to offer pearls of wisdom. I am not a guru. I don't have a corner on the market of insights into the human condition.

            What I do have is my own perspective on life's events, and the ability to write about them.

            A recurring theme in my life is anger, and my inability to deal with it. Not just in terms of expressing my own anger (which I don't do very well), but also handling others' anger. Anger is a natural, normal response to a great many circumstances. Repressing that emotion is no better than its opposite outlet: rage. Expecting myself and others to avoid expressing anger is not a healthy way to live.
            Recent events have inspired me to write about this human failing, not only for myself, but also to address what I see as a rising tide of anger unleashed in society, and also a chipping away at the veneer of civility.

            They say to write what you know. And, after all, what subject do we know better than ourselves?

            You might think there's any easy answer to that question, but it's surprisingly complex. True, we have known ourselves longer than we have known anyone else. For better or worse, we are our longest relationship because we are the one person we can't escape.

            But we are also the one person we try hardest to escape.

            Or, as my youngest niece once proclaimed: “The war you cannot win is the war against yourself.”

            That, I believe, is where the rage comes from. It's our inability, despite our best efforts, to escape who we are. If we don't like the person we have become, then our frustration inevitably mounts into anger … which is expressed in a multitude of behaviours, most of them unhealthy for ourselves and those around us.

            Late in my middle age, I am still struggling – as are many – with answers on how to resolve the most troubling aspects of my relationships with others. Which means answering some tough questions about myself.

            At the end of my life's journey, whenever that is, I hope to have more answers than I started out with. But, as is often the case, the journey may only yield more questions.

            Maybe by admitting to my own questions, this can help me – and others – move farther along in that journey.

            We can only hope.

Spring ... a time of hope and renewal.