This post is to linking up with my online writer’s group, (in)couraged to Explore the Writing Life, and we are reading, “The Writing Life” by Annie Dillard. This week I chose a quote that I liked from the first chapter and expounded my thoughts on how the starfish can be our teacher.
The Lesson of the Starfish
“From time to time a sea star breaks itself, and no one knows why. One of the rays twists itself off and walks away. Dr. S. P. Monks describes one species, which lives on rocky Pacific shores:
‘I am inclined to think that Plataria always breaks itself, no matter what may be the impulse. They make breaks when conditions are changed, sometimes within a few hours after being placed in jars…. Whatever may be the stimulus, the animal can and does break of itself….The ordinary method is for the main portion of the starfish to remain fixed and passive with the tube feet set on the side of the departing ray, and for this ray to walk slowly at right angles to the body, to change position, twist, and do all the active labor necessary to the breakage.’
Marine biologist Ed Ricketts comments on this:
‘It would seem that in an animal that deliberately pulls itself apart we have the very acme of something or other.'”
-Annie Dillard, “The Writing Life”
I had to look up “acme” as I just remembered it from watching Wile E. Coyote and Road Runner as a child. It means,
“the highest point or stage; also: one that represents perfection of the thing expressed.”
What exactly is the lesson of the starfish? What can it teach us? As a Christian writer, I adore the analogy here. The breaking, the pulling apart is the zenith of the starfish’s life or existence. It is not much different for a writer or for a Christian.
The Breaking
For the Writer
Mind
Very often, I write to know myself, to stop the internal dialogue, and to force my mind to be still and quiet. Much like the ray of the starfish, my mind twists and turns and mulls over a thought until it is released to the paper or the computer screen. Writing is not a choice – it is a necessity for a healthy life. It is an internal wrestling poured out on paper so that rest can occur. Not being a verbal processor, my mind requires a release.
Heart
My emotions too require care. Being innately more sensitive than most, I carry a lot of emotion with me. That emotion has not always been well received because a sensitive person feels more deeply than the average person. Early on in childhood, I felt obligated to stuff emotions. Often, I feel before I think, but unless I write, I don’t know what or why I feel a certain way. I know myself to be a conundrum to others, and yet I am what I am. I cannot give these things of myself away until I. myself. know what I have to give. In that way, it is my deepest hope that my writing is viewed as a gift to others in the way that I believe it is to my self. Very often those close to me never read or acknowledge the receipt of what I perceive as treasure.
Strength
It might be said that my writing is my greatest strength, but if so, my greatest strength is because of my greatest weakness: the inability to understand the why’s, who’s, what’s, where’s of who I am. I am never so deeply vulnerable as I am when I write, regardless of how closed my writing may be at the time. I don’t really know what I will find when I sit down or what I will be required to give away of myself as a result.
For the Christian
The Christian must live broken. The greatest example of living broken is Christ Himself. He was the living example of love poured out, serving the crowds, washing feet, dining with the outcast. In the Last Supper, He took the bread, broke it, and said it was His body. The wine He said was His blood, and then soon after, His body was broken and His blood was spilled out. I cannot get over God giving up His God-likeness to take on a lowly human body. This week I read over on Ann Voskamp’s blog, “Never trust a leader who doesn’t limp.” This struck me deeply because it reminded me how we as Christians need a limp. It draws a picture of humility and our dependence on God.
The Lesson of the Starfish: The Completion of Brokenness
God asks us to “love Him with all our mind, all our heart, and all our strength” (Deut. 6:5). When I write, I am loving Him with all of my mind, all my heart, and all my strength. It is a broken sacrifice, declaring that “His grace is sufficient for me, for His power is made perfect in my weakness. Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me” (2 Co. 12:9).
How do you live broken? How do you best express it?
I appreciated how you talked about the mind, heart and strength…I, too, struggle to understand the why’s, who’s, what’s and where’s of who I am…I’ve also been pondering about God’s love for me as I’ve been reading in Mt. about his crucifixion…thankful for how He’s breaking me down and using my struggles for my good and His glory! 🙂
Thank you, Kelley! I’m glad I’m not alone in that. 🙂
Wow, this is really good. I’ve realized how broken I truly am in this season of waiting before Him. I haven’t come to a place where I can express it yet in my writing. I hope to be able to do that. It’s so freeing.
Barbie – that’s a little how I felt last year during this time of year. My writing was bad in my opinion because I could not wrap my mind around what He was doing and how I was feeling. It took the year to understand. This year I have a similar circumstance that I just don’t feel publicly free to write about, but writing does free us. I pray that you will soon be able to write and find freedom. In the wait, trust Him. He is good. Always.
This is wonderful. Thank you for sharing your heart.
Thank you, Amy! I am really enjoying reading and getting to know everyone in our writer’s group.
Great insights, Jaime….oh, the painful process of breaking…the death before resurrection….as another HSP, I could really relate to what you were saying …Thanks.