I used to write quite often. The words flowed out of me and through me, bringing me an indescribable joy and fulfillment that cannot be put into words. I used to let the waves of creation carry me on gentle arms to magical realms. Not so much anymore. Why not? I couldn’t say very clearly. Life. Work. Responsibilities. They all have their weight. But most importantly, I think it’s letting the mind take over. To take control over life and writing.
I used to write from my heart and soul, without the filter of the prying mind. But I don’t seem to be able to do that much these days. I start and write and after a few words, my inquisitive mind wags its tail and starts whispering in my head that I’m not good enough at this, that I should use some stronger words, some more expressive adjectives, some more elaborate grammatical structures. And yet, I used to write without worrying about all that. I was just writing from the heart. And I was writing beautifully according to many people. Precisely because I wrote from the heart.
My beloved partner recently asked me why I no longer write because I have the ability to create such evocative and vivid images in people’s minds and hearts. That I can bring a splash of color to this world that seems so gray at times.
So I sit down and write. A few words, a few lines, and then I begin to fidget in my chair like I’m sitting on a mound with hundreds and hundreds of ants that are incessantly swarming. And again I get up from the three-quarter empty sheet and start doing chores around the house. Still thinking of writing, with a bitter regret that once again I’m not sitting down to write. Not always (or rather, almost never) the things I do are important or urgent. But I choose to do them because it’s so hard for me to simply sit in front of a blank, pristine sheet of paper and empty my mind of thoughts and just feel. FEEL! And then to put down on paper what I feel, what comes to me from beyond the mechanisms of the mind.
The truth is, I’m afraid. I’m afraid to write. I’m afraid of the judgement of others, of the harsh looks and words that might be directed at me.
I feel that my passion for writing is like a baby that you have to protect with all your being and keep away from the prying eyes of others. But babies need to be nurtured in order to grow. Just like writing.