A Way In

 

‘Scuse me. It’s been a while – a good, loooooooong while – since I’ve written anything here. Actually. It’s been a good long while since I’ve written anything that wasn’t either for work or for money. I keep a stack of notebooks that I document a ton of ideas and things in, but it’s been a very, very long time since I’ve cracked open my brain onto a bit of paper and let the contents spill out for all to see. And to be honest, it’s not been the most freeing experience writing for anyone else. I mean, it’s all for me, really. I write for myself first and foremost, saying what I want to say, how I want to say it. But what I don’t do anymore is write purely from myself for myself to myself, I think.

I don’t write through the mess of thoughts anymore, cutting loose. Some people jog and some people dance and I write. Freely and in a tangly stream of consciousness kind of way that’s just for me. It’s pure catharsis. It’s my ultimate meditation. In one of the actual meditations I practice, the group we meditate with busts into complete gibberish speak, venting out pure emotion through rabble before slipping into the silent state. It’s a nice way to get nothing but the feelings out there into the open, and clear the mind of all the thoughts that try to steer it all day long. I fucking love it. In a way, writing is my original gibberish meditation, allowing me to throw as much out onto the page as I can. So here’s me writing again. Two paragraphs so far that, for any other purpose, I’d edit and change and amend a couple times. Probably till they were down to a single paragraph, since I’d imagine the whole thing’s a bit repetitive right now, innit?

But this space here is meant for freedom. And there’s nothing more freeing than just telling the truth into the void, I think. Self-expression is probably the most useful human skill and it’s one most of us never use. A close friend said to me, last week, that I am the most extroverted introvert she knows, and that was one of those simultaneously rewarding and biting observations. Rewarding because it is always a beautiful thing when another human being observes you through the entanglement of themselves and sees you, right between all their (and your) filth, they see what’s right there at the core and go “Yeah, I see it”. Rewarding, also, because they feel confident and close enough to tell you that, yes, I see you, and it may not be 100% accurate, but I see it and I’m going to tell you I see it.

And then it’s biting because, well, here’s someone turning to you and saying “Sir, see, I’ve found you and I’d like to tell you what I see”. In our society, amongst the humans, where we’ve been told to be on our toes and fight letting anyone in with all we’ve got. Where we’re encouraged to equate being open with being foolish (and it is foolish, but there’s nothing at all wrong with that – rest assured, fools are happier than intellectuals). In this world, for someone to spot you coming a mile away is supposed to be a bad thing, and there’s a tiny bit of me that goes “Ah, fear, run, motherfucker! Run, motherfucker! Run!”

Not that that’s a voice worth listening to anymore. I can hear it. I know where it’s coming from. I sit and I discuss all these things with it. But it’s become nothing more than a signal now. It’s become a marker telling me where to go, rather than where to draw the line.

As I type this all out, my hand’s begun to hurt. My right arm’s begun to feel a bit stiff and a bit sore. I won’t let that deter me though. Nor will I let the fact that I’m not enjoying what I’m writing stop me. I’m going to let this one particular post fly formless into the night. It’s what they talk about when they say “let go” and I know that what will come back from all this is a deeper sense of self. I know there’s a bit of myself, scratching at the surface from the inside of myself, working at being expressive through words again. It’s a way out for my voice and a way in for myself.

Okay. So here’s this space. Reopened. Reawakened. It’s gonna be slow going getting it to feel just right again (or maybe it won’t – maybe I’ll have it down in a week), but it’s a start.

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