The University of the Self #71

Birdsong and Betterness Part 1

Birdsong and Betterness Part 1
Read Part 2 here.

Image description: This is one of my linocut prints. A piece of rectangle white paper as an ochre yellow linocut print of a crow with outstretched wings flies to the left of the print. The background is ochre yellow. In front of the ochre crow is a repeated print of the same crow done in black and placed on top. There is a white round sun or moon in the top right.

I have been thinking a lot lately about the concept of ‘betterness’ and how it might apply to my life. This is a loaded word with multiple meanings. Does it mean you want to be better at your job? Better at a hobby, for example? Does it mean you want to feel better, physically, mentally or both? Does it mean that you want to be a better person somehow? Better than someone else?

There’s a famous quote from St Jerome (347 and 420AD): “Good, better, best. Never let it rest. 'Til your good is better and your better is best.” He was thinking along those lines more than a thousand years ago. One the one hand, it can be good to improve in whatever you might be doing. People will tell you that there is always room for improvement. One the other, have we ever, as humans, just been able to take our feet off the gas, relax and smell the roses without worrying that we aren’t being the ‘best’ versions of ourselves we can be? Were we better human being before we thought of ‘bettering ourselves’? The world would be a better place if certain human beings didn’t consider themselves better than others, if people had never been forced to ‘look up’ to, obey or worship their ‘betters’.

‘Inspirational’ fridge magnets, posters and plaques abound, encouraging us to be the best that we can be. What is our best? What is giving our best? Trying our best? What does all of this actually mean? How much do these notions control, hamper or improve our lives? Simply the best. Best friend. Best Mum. Be the best version of you. So much of this meaning is dependent on context. Apply these words to greed and capitalism, and they become horrors. Apply them to health and they can become loaded with ableism and discrimination. The quote from Maya Angelou, “Do the best you can until you know better. Then when you know better, do better” struck me hard and helped me so much and I keep it close to my heart. When I discover that something that I do or say can hurt someone else, I try so very hard to never do it again. And find it impossible to forgive my past selves. And I am not fishing for forgiveness — my feelings of guilt are the reward I have been given in exchange for past behaviours and it is my responsibility to bear it and make no excuses.

I keep hoping and praying that life is going to level out and stop throwing lemons my way. Yes, I could make lemonade, as the saying goes, but there’s only so much of it you can swallow down. I have had to detach myself from the wider world for a while as every time I ‘look’ outwards, I am so overwhelmed by the devastation and treatment of people and the planet. And yes, I acknowledge the privilege of being able to hide myself away. If I could step away from my human body and become some other being, I would. I don’t know how to make the world a better place. My actions feel insignificant.

I have been struggling with how I and people in my life frame a health condition that I won’t ‘get better’ from. Most people, including myself, often send people the hope that they will feel better soon, get well soon. When I think about it, it would be more appropriate to wish someone all your love while they continue to deal with a health condition which is as much a part of their lives as breathing – a health condition they never get a break from, cannot recover from. There are too many narratives out there which concern life as it was, becoming life when health changes, followed by a journey of self-discovery which happens at the same time as a journey through some marvellous, incredible landscape, and closing with a now-I-can-look-forward-to-the-future, now-I-feel-better, it’s-all-ok-in-the-end chapter.

Maybe these hurt-heal-fixed narratives are something that some people need to read and there is absolutely nothing wrong with that, please don’t misunderstand me. We are all unique in our needs. I speak of them because I fail to fully connect with them – there are moments I enjoy, moments that inform, moments that resonate. There are also moments that do not. I finish such stories and turn my anger in on myself. When are YOU going to get better? Why can’t you get better? This is why these people are successful writers and you are not. This is why you can’t pull your tangled, scattered threads together and write a book of your own. You don’t do anything. You have no courage. Where is your journey? Nobody is ever going to want to read a jumble of unconnected essays that have been snatched from the curious, unpredictable windows of your mind. The only book I could write (and by book I mean book book, not a poetry book, as mentioned in my previous article Hibernaculum) would be a mess of everything that interests me at that particular time, which ends exactly when I have had enough and wandered off, and for no other reason. It won’t leave the reader with any answers – just more and more questions. Because that is how other people’s hurt-heal-fixed books more often than not leave me.

I know I write a lot in my articles on here about my fear, dislike and mistrust of the conclusion and perhaps this has come from the at first subconscious, and now fully conscious knowledge that I personally will never have such a narrative in my life. Yes, I have plenty of stories to tell, and many more currently unknown ones that I will share in the future, but I can’t, in the end, write myself fixed. I can repair, research or examine moments, but I can’t write away the scars. I can write about but can’t write away my physical or mental health. I can’t magically change any of my precarious circumstances with words. The only conclusion for me will be when I die, and then nothing I tried to do or say will matter anyway. The only conclusion is vanishment.

Maybe this is why I prefer reading non-fiction, how-to and reference books. Maybe this is why I am a born researcher. Their logic is black and white, and progress is sensible and measured. They make sense. I also like reading certain books from the fantasy genre. Their locations and characters are so beloved as to be real to me. Yet they are not real real. Not real life real. So, I can escape into them. I don’t have to feel the pressure of deciphering them; don’t have to question the people or circumstances; don’t have to compare my own life and failings to them. They don’t make me wonder what is wrong with me.

More and more, I become limited in ability and desire to ‘get out there’. My days aren’t special. By this I mean that they are very special to me, but not reader special, book deal special. A reader might interpret them as lists of boring, nothing days – chapters of minutiae, page after page of the same claustrophobic rooms, infinite loops of querulous dialogue, way too much introspection, not enough action. There won’t be what many might interpret as a grand, life-altering journey. There will be many smaller, yet no less important to me journeys, such as spending an afternoon searching for the missing pencil I love with British Library printed upon it, before eventually finding it under the sofa and feeling glad for a while. Or the ten-yard walk to the bench round the back, at the edge of the field, where I sit, drinking a cup of tea. These journeys won’t change anyone else’s lives, but they make a difference to my own. And they don’t make for a cracking good pageturner. I am book book doomed.

As you can tell from this article’s title, this is part 1. It is usually best for me to write these articles in parts, as it is rare I get something off my chest in one (though it does occasionally happen). It takes me so long to ‘set the scene’ of my articles that I often forget what the point was in the first place, or wander off into the lands of obscurity (and THAT is another journey I often make).

It has taken me over a thousand words to establish why I have used ‘betterness’ in the title of this piece and I haven’t quite got there yet. But one fragment of my examination is that it is better for me to write this way – I love the temporary sense of feeling ‘written out’. It’s soothing. Writing is a journey in itself. The page is a landscape we must map with words. I have a lot of bodymind to navigate and document. It is better for me to have the freedom that I have here, to write articles that would otherwise stand no chance of being published anywhere else. I don’t have to concern myself with word counts or themes, deadlines or submission guidelines. I won’t have to deal with rejections. I can wander at will. I am a horse, grazing and moving on a few feet. Graze and repeat. So betterness for me involves exercising words in ways which nourish the parts of me I do not know and do not know how to otherwise feed. It is better for myself now that I recognise this. Hurt-heal-fixed no. Still here-still-trying-still surviving yes. Bear with me and we will get to that in the end, I promise.

Please consider helping me to keep on sharing my articles with you…

I hope you enjoyed reading my latest article. Thank you so much for spending some time here with me. Times are tough, but if you feel like supporting a struggling writer so that she can continue being able to write, (every tiny bit helps) you can do so below…

I have currently left my Substack free, but if anyone should feel like sending me a tip (although there is no pressure to do so) in exchange for my tips, you can ‘buy me a coffee’ here . Every little bit makes a big difference. Or please do subscribe, which you can do either as paid or free. Either will let you see my articles. Many thanks.

If you like the article you have read, please do click the like button — I’d love to know you are out there.

I must add the usual disclaimer here: I am not sponsored or paid by any of the websites I link to (I do this in an attempt to help others find information, and I may or may not agree/disagree with any/some of the content) — sharing does not immediately equal endorsment. I also hope I haven’t written anyting that might offend anyone. I try very hard to be as considerate and kind as possible.