"I wonder," I say, "what the evolutionary purpose of [Enneagram] Type Four is. I mean, why would a person need to have others know of their uniqueness and individuality?"
"Well, maybe it's what moves them forward... What would the world be like without art?" she offers.
I say, "I did want to talk to you about my writing today. Because I have this sense that whenever I let my words out in public, they lose their meaning. It's like when they are in me they are this bubble of fascination, but once I let them go, they are depleted of all significance."
"The actual idea you wrote about?"
"Well, that, and everything in me and outside me as well. As if everything in the world loses some of its meaning."
"Why do you think that is?"
"Well, perhaps - possibly - I expect those who will receive my words to find them interesting, and to hold them in a certain way that will keep the delicate meaningfulness of them. But somehow I come to realize that all the receivers in the world are just little humans like me, and so a certain expectation is disappointed."
I go on. "I find this hard, especially since I want to write a book. Yesterday I had this sudden frightening thought that maybe writing a book isn't what I am supposed to do. But I have this big eager part in me that wants to be told, that has to be told to the world, but I don't know what, I don't know how, even though writing has been my passion forever. I don't even know how to start writing a book. I tried to sit down yesterday and start writing. I managed to write a few sentences and that's it. What do I even really want to say?"
"Well then," she says. "There is the answer to your question: That is the reason you have a need to share what's in you. If you didn't have that need, you'd maybe just forget about it. But you shouldn't. And you won't. It will come out eventually."
(View from the bus stop near our home, of Lake Whatcom)