I’m very interested Edward Said’s concept of Late Style which argues for the possibility of finding a new way of expressing something core to ourselves, something that has been eclipsed by the expediences of work. I wish my late style was writing, not writing for posterity, but for myself. Sadly I don’t think it is.
Funny how school can turn those subjects that are hard into subjects that you hate. I hated English lessons at school, and foreign languages, and history. But I love them now. I remember discovering literature in my early 20s. I had “dropped out” of medical school and was living in a commune on the coast in mid Wales. It was winter and very wet and cold. We had hurricane lamps and I sat by the window one night and picked up Portrait of an Artist as a Young Man. I was amazed. I was transported into another world, and in a very different way than by film. I still read my book by torch light in the early hours.
I’m glad I read slowly. I savour the words, I linger in the moment. I think I see the world lyrically. I’m hopeless at plot, as if it doesn’t matter as much as the observation. At film school I did observational documentary. Sometimes I feel that I’ve just observed life. Certainly in psychiatry you hear so many stories. I love constructing chronologies and then weaving narratives between various parts. Like the threads to catch a memory of a dream.
I worry sometimes about living life vicariously, being the observer or the listening ear. But I don’t see that as passive. In fact I think my greatest strength was as an active listening, helping people to tell a new and less damaging story of their own lives. Although it was just called an Assessment Interview, I thought it could be the most powerful therapeutic tool.
Some people experience emotions more deeply than others. And that in a way relates to a capacity for empathy and emotional intelligence. I find that emotions often catch me unawares as if coming from some deep hidden away part of me. But whatever that part is, it doesn’t seem to be fading with age.
I love the autumn and the peace of mind it seems to bring. Time to read, time to breathe. I’ve always been excited by the autumnal promise of new beginnings.