the dance of the ink riddled fingers


Posted in thought spills by enisea on 22/03/2012

I’ve been tussling with both a curiousity about how to do things differently and exasperation over no longer being able to do things the way I used to.  I’ve tried writing lately.  I’ve tried.   But nothing has struck me as worthy of posting, worthy of committing to anyone – be it God or man.

For me, I’ve enjoyed writing as soon as I read my first magically woven, dragon infested fantasy novel and discovered it was possible to create and not merely absorb imaginative dreams.  To create is to know freedom, I think, anyway.  Here’s to every artist, from three year old with crayon to ninety two year old with camera.  You’ve created something, captured something of freedom.  You’ve this beautiful ability to inspire people… and to inspire others is unimaginably powerful.

I’ve lately been confronted with a tyrannous sense of dissatisfaction, regarding writing.  And to describe that with synonyms roundabout any sort of sorrow seems an understatement.  I used to write horribly. I can’t say I’ve escaped that – for one, I love starting sentences with ‘And’ or ‘So’, and any literary nazi would no sooner crucify me than I’d use it.  But it didn’t matter what others thought of my writing (though I admit, it would make me feel a million high anytime anyone complimented anything I’d written especially), because I was happy with my writing. Writing made me happy. It made me sad, angry, relieved, tired and excited too.  It showed me how many emotions I had and how vividly I could express them or engage and capture you.

I used to be satisfied with the things I wrote.

It’s a little gut-wrenching not feeling that anymore.  Like my insides are being cleaned out, but not in the flash, it’s finished! sort of way, rather, the scrape at me til you hit the bone sort of fashion.  Oh, but I’m fine. And in all honesty, life is at its absolute highest! I have never, NEVER, lived and loved and liked life like I do now.  So I suppose, in one sense, I’m coming away from living vicariously through words and involving myself with actual life. I achieve more in my days.  I daydream less and live a little more. I write less and draw a little more. I explain less and explore more.

It is well.  Just as well, probably.

I just didn’t want you to think I had no time to write, that I was too busy or it wasn’t important. This is so important to me, and maybe that’s what’s changing. Perhaps writing can’t be the most important thing anymore.  Perhaps writing can’t be what I’m best at for the dreams I’ve been smiling at lately… perhaps, perhaps, perhaps.


4 Responses

Subscribe to comments with RSS.

  1. Kaiwin said, on 24/03/2012 at 10:26 AM

    pictures can speak more than words, so how about trying some photography? Like a 365 picture project :)

    • enisea said, on 25/03/2012 at 3:29 PM

      You know right after I told you I might try the 365 project, I thought “I cant believe I just said I’d do something which I don’t even feel compelled to do”… a 365 project is not something I feel I can commit to at the moment… Having said that, I will probably still fill this page with a few more photos…

  2. eikcajn said, on 26/03/2012 at 12:12 AM

    I miss you so and this place was where I could catch up on you even when I don’t see you!
    Love you dearly!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: