I was chatting with a friend via text this morning and I was gratified to understand that he has unshakeable faith in me as a writer. Not something I have experienced from many people. His opening text read: Hey Christine, what’s going on with the world’s best undiscovered writer?
Those words made me smile. Yes, most people in my circle of family and friends know I write. Few have expressed their opinion of my writing so wholeheartedly. I neither look for or require such support from my circle. But it was refreshing and humbling. His belief in me made me ponder the nature of faith. His words testified to his faith in me as an aspiring writer yet to be discovered.
Those of us ‘in the know’ when it comes to writing and publishing understand that many ‘discovered’ writers have honed their craft for years before they hit the bestseller lists. Yes, there are the odd comets who shoot to fame with their first tome hitting the top of the charts within days or weeks of publication. That is more of a rarity than a regularity.
My next question was, do I have faith? I am not referring to faith in any religious or spiritual context here. I understand faith to be a complete confidence in someone or something. So, I wondered aloud: do I have faith in myself as a writer? The writing and publishing journey is wrought with naysayers, least of all our personal demons of doubt, fear, visibility, critics etc. His faith in me facilitates the perseverance I need to continue my writing goals in spite of my issues with procrastination born of fear and self-doubt.
Faith and the Creative Process
What I do have faith in is the creative process. In my experience, the fountain of creativity feels like a perpetually flowing source of ideas, strategies, characters, and curious juxtapositions of concepts. Sometimes that faith is as simple as sitting down to write and trusting the words will flow, regardless of what my best friend is saying about me or whether I slept properly last night.
Faith can be using the inspiration of subjective visuals that transform into stories and sagas that are breathtaking and vibrant in their intention. Those are the moments when I am simply the transcription tool, the conduit employed to put words around the stories dancing across my inner vision. The ease with which the pictures and words flow consolidates my faith in the creative process. When I do this, am I trusting in a process that I know works or am I trusting me as the channel for receiving those ideas? Is that faith or trust?
Instincts, intuition or something else?
Is it faith or trust when I write a book, story, or article and I ‘know’ or ‘feel’ when it is ready and when it is not? Is that faith in my instincts? In my writing process? Or in something bigger than myself that dictates resonance or dissonance about a finished piece? Perseverance is key when writing and feeling that dissonance. It is the deciding factor in whether I continue crafting and polishing until it is ready or whether it is ready for a wider audience than my beta readers. When I feel a piece is finished, I can put it into the ‘completed’ basket and move onto other projects requiring my attention.
Do I have faith in anything other than writing when it comes to life? Big question. Tough question. There are times in my life when I have felt empty, incapable of belief in anything other than the next breath. Those times when I was tossed on storms that felt endless and overwhelming, I wished for the end of my time on this earth. Faith may have helped me. If I was able to feel it at the time. My youngest child was the reason I didn’t give in to those urges. The routines required to raise a child kept me putting one foot in front of the other. For him, I didn’t let go of my sanity. Momentarily, perhaps. Never completely.
But I did let go of my faith in anything other than knowing the sun rose and set each day. That was the only thing I could know for sure. About anything. To say life felt unsafe was an understatement. I didn’t believe that God or any superpower had caused my pain. I knew only that my heart felt gouged deeper than the Mariana Trench. While I bore my grief and nurtured my son through his, I gave up finding any buoy that could hold me steady in the storms. I gave up on myself, on life, on any future that could be lighter or brighter than what I experienced each moment I breathed. Those storms passed. Eventually. Decades later, I can stand in the eye of a storm and ask for help from within. In a way that I never could before. Is that faith? Or just lived experience?
I am unsure what faith is. For some, faith is black and white. Either you have it, or you don’t. I believe change is possible in any mind and heart. There were moments in life when I have believed with all of my being that I was attuned to the whispers of intuition that have kept me safe over the years: from would-be murderers, from car accidents, from strangers with ill intentions, from clients who needed more than I was able to give. Other times I was certain that something in particular would happen. For my benefit, of course. When it didn’t, I felt the disappointment that most of us feel when life does not go our way.
Faith suggests that each time life did not align the way I thought it should, that I best shrug it off and buy into the belief that it ‘wasn’t meant to be.’ Such a belief suggests life is predetermined; something I abhor so much that my body reacts with a gut-gripping resistance whenever it is touted to me. Such a notion makes me feel as though I have absolutely no control over anything in my life. Even me.
Over the years I have learned that the only control I have in life is over what I choose to think and feel. That does not seem like much, really. But knowing this, I feel stronger in facing life’s storms. Recent events showed me the wisdom in such a belief – that I can control my inner world – choose responses rather than reactions, and that by doing so I can ride whatever storms life tosses at me.
The nature of faith is quintessentially an optimistic outlook. It is confidence. It is unshakeable belief. Either about oneself, one’s abilities or one’s place in life. It can even be faith in another and their ability, such as my friend mentioned earlier. My deepest and most consistent faith is in the creative process. At this time in my life, whenever storms arrive, writing feels like my anchor and the compass that keeps me pointing forward even when I cannot see through the fog of emotion or disruption caused by the storm.
Faith or trust or something in between?
Is that faith? In me? Or something outside of myself? Perhaps connection to an inner well of imagination encapsulates the essence of faith. Or trust. Is faith another word for trust – are they interchangeable? Maybe faith is simply trust in life, in oneself, in others. While living on the road, trust in oneself is pivotal to survival. Allowing myself to be guided by the softest whispers has deepened my trust in myself and in life. Do I have complete trust in life? In myself? Not yet, because I am very much a work in progress. So, in all honestly, when it comes to faith and whether I have any, I profess I do not know. Trust, yes. Perhaps trust will be my compass until I flex the muscle that probably develops when faith is experienced frequently enough to make it a way of life.
I suspect faith could be a lifestyle choice. Not one I am prepared to choose right now. Living on the road is a big enough choice. So I best stick with trust. For those of you who know, understand, and employ faith in your life, you may see how trust and faith are similar.
Do you think faith and trust are the same? Are there specific times when you experience trust? Or faith?
Further reflections:
When has faith or trust guided you through a creative block or challenge in life? How did that experience shape your understanding?
Feel free to share your thoughts on social media and tag me. Let’s start a wider conversation on faith and trust.
Originally posted on Ko-Fi https://ko-fi.com/in_between
Christine Writer 