Open Writing

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I think we all have a core that's ecstatic,
that knows and that looks up in wonder.
We all know that there are marvelous moments
of eternity that jut happen. We know them...
Coleman Barks

Have you ever spray painted graffiti? Have you ever carved you and your lover’s initials in a tree? Ever wrote or etched the back of a bathroom stall door? How about wrote something on a steamed bathroom mirror, frosty window or dusty car?

What is this human urge to mark things?

Recently while camping with friends we took a hike through the majestic woods of Wyalusing in southern Wisconsin. In the midst of our journey, turning a woodland corner, we came upon this, thrilling and utterly captivating sand cave. I was suddenly alone, deep in my own curiosity and awe.

There was a slim waterfall from the treetops. The walls variegated from yellows to rusty reds and being of sand and so soft, disintegrating naturally. We were walking on sand at this point. What really captured my imagination, what I gave my regard to, was the hand-etched graffiti. There were imprints of words, initials, dates, symbols and other images by so many people before us. It was astonishing. I had this immense and aching urge to carve something myself, an overwhelming compulsion to leave a mark. Instead, with my fingers I traced the existing marks that others had left. Secretly, with a stick, I scratched a little line.

Much of the walls' art was now flocked with moss. Sensational. So beautiful. I couldn’t stop thinking about it for days. I remain in its grip. There is something about both the impermanence of the natural decay, evolving beauty, and the compulsion to contribute to these walls with your own significance and existence. Nature not only receives but will enter and join the markings with its velvety moss, a flourishing contribution.

I was reminded of our true nature and, perhaps, primal need for spontaneous expression; our need to communicate, be remembered, leave our mark.

We want to receive the images, symbols, messages of those before us and also to set out our own yearnings for future seekers and finders.

That cave is a reminder of how beautiful are our longings and dreams, how temporary is life, no matter how grandly it has been lived. The walls of the cave, and the markings on them, are also ephemeral, changing, deteriorating, revealing beauty.

For brief moments that cave was ours. We claimed it, recognising that it seemed to map a precious and universal truth. Human yearning...identity...who I am I may not know but I am here now...remember me.

The cave drew me yet again to the fascinating subject of human individuality and personal identity: our loves, our dreams, and how we express them. How we connect with others, expressing our deepest selves.

Our marks and symbols declare us, announce our personal truths. They are our legacy, giving purpose and meaning to life. We must be ever mindful of the marks we make, the inscriptions we leave, of what we say and do and create and share.

The awesome wonder of creating those marks is to explore humanity, indiviudal experience, the traces of life.