In my attempt to unblock the dam, clear the drain, purge the system, cleanse my soul, free fall my intermittent attempts to page… I am coaxing to the page a few words to reflect my sporadic feelings of late. Up and down – I don’t have to go to K-days to experience the ride!
An Ode to My Words
I feel relief when I realize my words never leave me – that alone is the inspiration upon which I draw to move forward. My words provide constant companionship to comfort me. They give me the means to express my creative outlet. Their collectivity is my treasure. But they are not things that readily prod me to write – they wait patiently, building and gaining momentum, until I call upon them. Then, they leap to attention and give it their best shot depending upon me and my direction. Otherwise, they remain, silent and formulating, until I call them forth. I will always need to write and I will always listen to my words. Having said that, some things about me and my words bother me: 1) I can’t pinpoint the exact time when writing in my journal was such a chore and I have many beautiful books awaiting entries. At one point, I was proficient and they were full of musings. I regret the lax attitude I have towards my journal because some very powerful raw wordage presented itself there to me. 2) I am overflowing with ideas (novels, kid’s books, poetry, collaborations, on so forth) yet the lid is firmly capped creating creative captives. Most often, it’s like sucking sweet nectar through a straw only to have the flow blocked by a huge berry… it’s all good, but it just doesn’t work out the same way. 3) The WIP is my most precious work yet it remains under cover awaiting edits and additions, revisions and reviving. Am I so reluctant to let it go that I cannot finish it? Or are there so many things than can change over time that the work is no longer the same one I envisioned at the start?
What does it matter? I ask myself, unable to answer coherently despite my connection to words.
There is hope – there is always hope. Even if beyond the present situation, the future appears uncertain and the present is unfairly regarded as unjust. Looking up there lies a fascination with the clouds and a distraction to all else that is around me. I have always loved cloud formations; admired their colors and consistency, their magic and reality. Sure, they bring with them nature’s calamities but most of the time, they are a painter’s inspiration and a writer’s temptation. Dream beyond. Behold the beauty. The situation is looking up.