I pick up my pen, gaze at it while I twirl it between my fingers.I'm in a creative mood today, but the sequence of thoughts elude me. Where do I begin? What do I write? Why can't I catch a fleeting thought and convert it into a theme for my piece? Ah! that's easier said than done!!
These words are manifestations of my thoughts! Thoughts? What thoughts? Not even one takes concrete shape so how am I to create?
I think again. Should I write on an aspect of my life? an exciting experience perhaps? something someone would be interested to read about? a poem? an article? What...what...what!!!?
Thoughts gush like water through a narrow pipe. They make a strong, thick flow, but to look for a thin stream within the current, would be like looking for the proverbial needle in the haystack!!
Should I write on childhood memories? but that would be pining for that which is nought..Teenage? manhood? or perhaps a bitter experience I had at school? Ah! what about schooltime heartbreaks that filled my life with dreariness?...but that would be too dull to share!
Aspiring writers fill their rooms with a thousand balls of crumpled paper.To the passionate writer, a single word, phrase or syntactical error, could transport manuscripts into the confines of the waste paper basket. Plans and drafts drawn up on endless reams of paper, just to get it right. Right? Right? Right for who? The reader? The reader, who doesn't see the pangs of frustration that pierce the heart, the feelings of despair, the depression born from the feeling of mediocrity and yet the most important person to the creator, who spends sleepless nights trying to conjure up just the correct combination that would win appreciation.
Creative muse can get the artist into a frenzy. Into a state beyond reality. Into a manic state of hypnosis. Once she escapes, she takes a long time to return to the silent recesses of the mind. She needs the right ambiance to return. She is a fleeting spirit, difficult to seduce but once she does allow herself, she showers her gifts abundantly, giving her host a basket of treasures to create masterpieces from the realms of imagination.
It's this search for this blithe spirit that makes the artist escape sanity, elevating his conscience above the harsh world of commonality, levitating his senses beyond the physical being. Genius exists on this plane.
How caught up we are in our struggles and challenges. We are the greatest manifestation of creation to walk upon this earth but today, we have reduced ourselves to scum. Genius lies obscured in a world filled with self induced disasters that threaten our existence. We are fighting a losing battle against our unforgiving planet and yet, we continue to wage war on our less fortunate brethren all over the world while our selfish greed has led us to take more than we ever needed.
What a fascinating species we are! When we introspect we realise that we were created to self destroy. If this isn't a fact, why haven't we learnt from our mistakes?
We don't need a Judgement Day to bring wrath upon ourselves. At the rate that we have progressed, we have already travelled too far into 'the valley of death'...
These words are manifestations of my thoughts! Thoughts? What thoughts? Not even one takes concrete shape so how am I to create?
I think again. Should I write on an aspect of my life? an exciting experience perhaps? something someone would be interested to read about? a poem? an article? What...what...what!!!?
Thoughts gush like water through a narrow pipe. They make a strong, thick flow, but to look for a thin stream within the current, would be like looking for the proverbial needle in the haystack!!
Should I write on childhood memories? but that would be pining for that which is nought..Teenage? manhood? or perhaps a bitter experience I had at school? Ah! what about schooltime heartbreaks that filled my life with dreariness?...but that would be too dull to share!
Aspiring writers fill their rooms with a thousand balls of crumpled paper.To the passionate writer, a single word, phrase or syntactical error, could transport manuscripts into the confines of the waste paper basket. Plans and drafts drawn up on endless reams of paper, just to get it right. Right? Right? Right for who? The reader? The reader, who doesn't see the pangs of frustration that pierce the heart, the feelings of despair, the depression born from the feeling of mediocrity and yet the most important person to the creator, who spends sleepless nights trying to conjure up just the correct combination that would win appreciation.
Creative muse can get the artist into a frenzy. Into a state beyond reality. Into a manic state of hypnosis. Once she escapes, she takes a long time to return to the silent recesses of the mind. She needs the right ambiance to return. She is a fleeting spirit, difficult to seduce but once she does allow herself, she showers her gifts abundantly, giving her host a basket of treasures to create masterpieces from the realms of imagination.
It's this search for this blithe spirit that makes the artist escape sanity, elevating his conscience above the harsh world of commonality, levitating his senses beyond the physical being. Genius exists on this plane.
How caught up we are in our struggles and challenges. We are the greatest manifestation of creation to walk upon this earth but today, we have reduced ourselves to scum. Genius lies obscured in a world filled with self induced disasters that threaten our existence. We are fighting a losing battle against our unforgiving planet and yet, we continue to wage war on our less fortunate brethren all over the world while our selfish greed has led us to take more than we ever needed.
What a fascinating species we are! When we introspect we realise that we were created to self destroy. If this isn't a fact, why haven't we learnt from our mistakes?
We don't need a Judgement Day to bring wrath upon ourselves. At the rate that we have progressed, we have already travelled too far into 'the valley of death'...
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