It has been three months since I published the last blog post here.The said post was not an inspired outburst,unlike all the other pieces that I generally publish.I have been told many times,in this past year,to “write!” and “keep writing!”-part therapeutic advice,part concern and gratefully,part appreciation of the content I manage to churn out.Even so,as I sit up at this hour,my fingers dancing their familiar dance across the keyboard,the relief I feel is tremendous,because of the amount of motivation and determination it took to perform a task that once was as second nature to me as breathing.
Does it feel good? -Definitely.The sense of tranquility is palpable.I will feel ecstatic,and I might feel a variety of other emotions later,but right now,peace prevails.
What is so special about these words on a website? -Everything!They give me a sense of entitlement,and belonging.You need not be a creative genius to feel what I am feeling.Just plant a seed,water it for a few days,and watch it blossom.This is a similar,more satisfying experience.I feel alive,and I want to remain so,and “suck the marrow out of life”.Most people don’t appreciate the subtle distinction between “being alive” and “wanting to be,and feeling,alive”,but it makes all the difference in the world!
Life has a way of becoming a turbulent ride,every once in a while.I,made the mistake of dropping oars when I ought to have been enjoying a capital rafting experience.In the trials and tribulations of every day life,I let the trivial sorrows overpower the tiny joys,one day at a time,until I stopped appreciating them completely.Somewhere between wanting to sleep a lot due to fatigue, to wanting to sleep primarily to avoid the conscious world and it’s problems,I stopped doing the one thing that provides exponential amounts of joy and satisfaction in an effortless manner to me-writing.
I do not perceive myself as a critically acclaimed child prodigy who has astonished the literary world with extraordinary talent.I merely intend to emphasize how much MY words mean to me,in a manner far from egotistic,yet assertive,and somewhat conciliatory.They provide me with an identity so uniquely my own that, sometimes,in the worst of phases,even I can not replicate .
If it meant so much to me,why,then, did I stop writing? -I have always acknowledged my sillier side,but this is not its doing.This was a result of dejection and Harakiri,and a certain discovery of beauty in grief,and of a wonderful,detached silence in sadness.Silence in sadness,sadness in silence:it’s an amusing tangle.The quiet is the most beautifully devastating chaos your mind can experience.I often say that mine is an ancient soul,trapped in a child’s consciousness.Instead of a clinical scrutiny of that statement,I would just say that children are not designed to be quiet,and sad and dejected.
I have been giving the same optimistic(and hollow) response to every request,inquiry and command to start writing again,without actually acting upon it.Even solitude has its treacherous charms:it becomes enticing after a while,when you get used to it,and your former way of life suddenly seems too gauche,pretentious,or outright annoying.There have been times when an idea occurred to me,like the good old days-A seed of thought burgeoning into a poem or a story,or a choice rant on morals,philosophy or popular culture.Unfortunately, or maybe more due to my cowardice than providence,they never materialized.”Not feeling like writing anymore” eventually became another avenue of self doubt : “Can I even write like I used to?Do I have the words?” The impulsive act of publishing articles here became a menial task that I had to be coaxed into completing,with disastrous consequences.
I would certainly be outreaching myself if I state that I have discovered a sudden panacea,and have transitioned into former silly old child ,disposition amiable with ever present goofy grins.Life,is always going to be a roller-coaster ride.Why the sudden celebration of life,then?,one might ask…I would love to give a beautiful motivational quote or incident as an answer to that question,but I can not.Its simpler.In the end,everything is.
Life will go on,despite the amount of willingness(or lack thereof) we show towards its passing.Although sleeping through it seems a very enticing option,living it,and loving it is more gratifying!
I might slip into another hiatus,but I refuse to let that thought reduce this euphoria.It feels good to be doing what you really love doing.Always remember that.If you are one of those kindred souls who dropped their pens and picks and paintbrushes somewhere along the ride,I beseech you to pick them up!I know it will require a great deal of courage and coaxing,but I assure you that it will indeed be a reincarnation!
Ps:The “picks” are guitar picks.Thanks for reading till the very end.Here’s a little pupper,to make up for the long post!