The Despair of the Infinite

The ironic thing about you and I being here right now is that I have writing phobia.

The fear of writing or handwriting is graphophobia, but that is usually refers to the actual ACT of writing.  The fear of putting the pen on the paper and creating words.  It is not the creation of words that I am afraid of.

There is another fear of writing, Scriptophobia, that is the act of writing in public.  I am not afraid to write in public, per se, but if this includes the fear of others reading what I wrote, it partially applies.  Frankly, though, if I can get past the fear of writing, I really don't mind if others read it.

What I am afraid of is the blank page.  If you asked me to create a manual to train others how to extract analytical sales information from a spreadsheet I would have no problem.  If you asked me to journal about a specific topic, I would be fine.  If you asked me to write down everything I know about cats, we begin to skirt the edge of fear.  My heart accelerates, I take deep breaths.  It is the blank page... the infinite possibilities that terrifies me.  If you put a blank piece of paper in front of me and tell me to "Write Anything" you have pushed me into the abyss.  I freeze from terror.  I am overwhelmed by the infinite universe of 'Anything'.  Anything is just too big.  How do you choose from infinity?

I read a lot of Science Fiction.  "Anything" encompasses, not just everything in our universe, but everything in a multiplicity of universes.  An infinity so large that it swallows you up.  You un-exist. 

The very act of choosing "anything" eliminates all of the other "anythings" that you did not choose!  You begin to write and entire swaths of possibility are erased simply because when you define by writing, you also define as NOT all of the other possibilities!  All other realities & possibilities erased in the very moment you begin.  All that limitless infinity, destroyed by the limits of what you choose.

If I am writing this, right now, I am NOT writing all of the other infinite things.  I cannot be.  All of the other infinite me's can choose all of the infinite other options, but I, Now, This Self, cannot.

A philosopher friend of mine pointed me towards Kierkegaard.  He defined this as "the despair of the infinite".  I love that phrase.  It is exactly what keeps me from writing or sends me into a tailspin when confronted with the empty page.

I have decided that this fear is beneath me.  I am greater than this fear.  I'm going to conquer this fear.  I am going to dive into the deep end and start swimming.