Writer’s block: The unspoken depths of experience

This excerpt from a new book explores the layers of human experience, drawing on connections between memory, language, and our zig-zag journeys.

I live on Madh Island in Mumbai and go for binge walks along Silver Beach every morning. These strolls by the shoreline have a magical quality. The vast expanse of the sea invokes a deep sense of awe. Whether it’s the susurration of soft waves or the tumultuous crashes of fierce ones, the melody of the sea waves does strange things to the mind, transporting it to an ethereal state. It is almost a transcendent experience. These moments don’t happen all the time, but they do steal upon you unbidden when they do. They can’t be forced or even cajoled.

The Telling of It!

The other day, I seamlessly flowed into one of those moments. Time lost its grip, and I was transported to another realm. It was as though the sea had unlocked a hidden chamber within my heart, revealing a wellspring of joy and peace. I was not just looking at the sea; I was it. Sensations intensified, causing a delightful ache. It was bliss that was ineffable.

Suddenly, a long-forgotten quote popped up in my head out of nowhere: “The subject exceeds the telling of it.” This statement by the French author Stendhal was the stated reason he abandoned his autobiographies without finishing them. He started writing his memoirs, Memoirs of an Egotist, in 1832 but never completed the book. He began writing his autobiography, The Life of Henry Brulard, in 1835 but soon abandoned the project. Somewhere, Stendhal also said, “How does one describe one’s wildest happiness? One spoils such tender feelings by recounting them in detail.” However, both of his incomplete works were published posthumously.

“The subject exceeds the telling of it!” I remember being stumped by these magical words when I first came across them years ago. They speak volumes about the inadequacy of language in fully capturing the essence of a lived experience. They encapsulate the universal struggle we all face when trying to convey profound experiences.

I experienced the truth of this succinct statement firsthand at Silver Beach that day. How can one possibly translate the raw essence of an experience like that into words without losing something in the process? Language falters in moments like that. Words have their limitations. They fall short.

One key reason for this inadequacy is the linear nature of language, which contrasts with the multifaceted and non-linear nature of human experience. The lived experience is not a series of sequential events but a complex web of thoughts, feelings, and sensory inputs that co-occur. Language, however, can only convey these elements one at a time in a linear fashion. This sequential representation simplifies and flattens the intricate web of experiences, making it impossible to fully capture their richness and depth.

The subject exceeds the telling of it! Language falters in capturing the full essence of our profound experiences, leaving much unsaid and unseen. One key reason for this inadequacy is the linear nature of language, which contrasts with the multifaceted and non-linear nature of human experience.

Thus, the gap between experience and its articulation inevitably leads to distortions. Language acts as a veil that obscures the lifeblood of an experience. We rely on metaphor, simile, and analogy, but these are mere approximations. The ineffable remains ineffable, tucked away in the folds of our consciousness. It’s like trying to capture the brilliance of a sunset with a black-and-white photograph or the scent of a rose with a single word. How can we trap a sunbeam in a jar?

Moreover, memories are not always an accurate reflection of what actually occurred. Some events may be consciously or unconsciously omitted, while others are embellished. Memory encompasses a nuanced interplay of selective recall and subtle judgment. It involves choosing which events to revisit and how to interpret them, often colored by our present perspectives and emotions.

In other words, our memories are not perfect records. They are reconstructive, blending factual recall with emotions, interpretations, and subsequent experiences. When we describe past events, we are not just recounting what happened but also interpreting it through the lens of who we are now. Our current state of mind shapes how we frame and understand past experiences.

We filter our experiences through our biases and perspectives. Consequently, reality is altered when it becomes a memory through our subjective intervention. Inevitably, much is lost or distorted in the process of expression. Every description is but a shadow of the life it seeks to represent.

As I contemplate sharing my memories in this book, I am acutely aware of this inherent filtering process as well as the inadequacy of language in faithfully reproducing what happened. Yet, we must not overlook the fact that, despite its limitations, language remains our most potent tool for comprehending the world and sharing experiences. We can acknowledge its shortcomings while still valuing its ability to connect us, stir emotions, and offer glimpses into the vastness of human experience.

Memory Hoarding

Many people find solace in the age-old practice of keeping a diary. Within its pages, they chronicle daily events, jot down to-do lists, capture fleeting musings, relate emotional experiences, and etch their unique perspectives on the world. Essentially, they transcribe the meanderings of their minds onto paper, crafting a repository to revisit and reflect upon later. Diaries become hosts to a multitude of expressions, serving as tangible records of thoughts at any given moment. This act of archiving one’s existence could be dubbed “memory hoarding.”

I passionately embraced this practice during my teenage years and into my mid-twenties, cherishing my diaries as if they were my very soul. They were vessels for my most intimate thoughts, an extension of my very being. However, beneath this attachment lurked a profound fear of someone discovering and reading my diaries- a fear akin to the vulnerability of being seen naked.

Mine has been a life punctuated by stumbles and surprises, foibles and flourishes, quirks and quandaries, whimsy and wonder. It has been a dance between existential angst and unflappable calm. But, if my life is a crazy quilt, so is everyone’s. For some, it may be a little less crazy, and for others, a little more.

At one point, the fear became so overwhelming that I considered destroying my diaries. I was torn between the desire to protect what I had so lovingly crafted and the terror of it being discovered. It was a perpetual state of unease, a tug-of-war between my heart and mind. The thought of destroying my diaries felt like severing a part of myself and bidding it farewell forever.

Eventually, my dread outweighed my possessiveness, and one fine day, unceremoniously, I set about tearing up my treasure. It was a relief, as the fear of my diaries being found was gone. Yet, it also brought waves of remorse as a part of myself was destroyed in the process. Although the diaries from that time are long gone, the memories remain vivid in my mind, both from that period and the years that followed.

Crazy Quilt

Throughout my life, I have simply followed my nose, doing what felt natural. I couldn’t help but act in the ways I did because I couldn’t help being the person I was and still am – with all the oddities and kookiness woven into my character.

Life has unfolded for me with a mix of wrong and right turns, sometimes engulfing me in madness while other times leading me back to the shores of sanity. I have experienced spells of dolefulness and also bursts of euphoria. Flashes of brilliance have alternated with attacks of foolishness. Sparks of inspiration have given way to streaks of confusion. It has been a life punctuated by stumbles and surprises, foibles and flourishes, quirks and quandaries, whimsy and wonder. It has been a dance between existential angst and unflappable calm.

There have been times when my hopes soared and times when I found myself in deep despair. Eventually, hopes and despair lost their meanings, and their distinction blurred. They revealed themselves as points on the same continuum. There have been triumphs that, over time, felt hollow and failures with nothing mournful about them. Ultimately, triumphs and failures lost their distinct meanings as they both contributed to making me who I am.

Life has been a journey of embracing random experiences, a crazy quilt of irregular patches. This haphazard patchwork is neither ugly nor beautiful. It is beyond any such categorization. Looking back, I would not trade a single patch of this design-less design. Each patch represents a different experience, a different part of me, and it is only the totality of them all that makes my life uniquely mine—an imperfect whole, so to speak.

Intersecting Lives

In the end, if my life is a crazy quilt, so is everyone’s. For some, it may be a little less crazy, and for others, a little more. We are all in this game of living together, each of us unique in our own way. As I present my anecdotal offerings, gradually unfurling the treasure trove of my memories, many readers will likely see themselves in me, finding their own quirks reflected in mine.

Our lives intersect through these quirks – the peculiarities that evoke laughter, tears, and awe. Each of us carries a crazy quilt of experiences stitched together by time and circumstance. So, let us celebrate the irregular, embrace the kooky, and recognize that our shared humanity lies not in perfection but in the beautifully flawed threads that bind us all.

The stories shared vary in hue and tone, promising a broad mélange of recollections that range from lighthearted to deeply reflective, amusing to thought-provoking, and straightforward to freakish. If the telling of my stories strikes a chord with you or ignites your curiosity about some aspect of life, it will truly warm my heart!

‘The Wisdom of Being Flawed and Fragmented: Random Reminiscences’ by P.S. Wasu explores the beauty of imperfection and the deep insights that emerge from life’s fragmented experiences. The introductory chapter, ‘The Telling of It,’ reproduced above from the book, sets the tone for his reflective journey. The book is now available on the Kindle store: The Wisdom of Being Flawed and Fragmented. P.S. Wasu has earlier authored half a dozen books.