When I say, “I’m a writer,” it does not necessarily mean I am a good one, and certainly not better than most. It does not mean I am sitting next to the highest and most qualified writers of all time. It does not make me special in any way. It’s simply what I do. When […]When I say, “I’m a writer…”
(Originally written on October 25th 2012)
As i am sitting here in front of my white screen, it is not obvious for me to write anything, my mind is full of thoughts, ideas, tasks, to-do-lists. Daily life turned us into soldiers in a constant battle against time, wishing we could stretch our days few hours longer than 24. In the circular moving world, the mind is torn apart, too much planning due to too much rationality. We were all brought up on fearless, matter-oriented, wild rationality. We are blocks, living in blocks. The result: our world is a web. Are we unconsciously Hegelian?
Writing is concentration. Clear black on white words that can stop the world for a while, that can free the imagination. Writing is letting go. Writing is drawing images, dancing arabesques on an empty space, making silent music (not very silent, typing is musical). What we get in this experience is chaos, pure immanence, fugitive rays of lights and lines; less poetically, it is energy. Immanent energy. We are not bodies, not souls, but energy, dancing chaotic energy. As long as we are dancing, imagination, creativity, connectivity are saved. Connectivity with the chore of the world , life. Writing saves us.
What is writing? It is dancing.
We should not underestimate the writers’ role in society. From the beginning of time, knowledge was shared from generation to generation thanks to storytellers who used their artistry to pass on information, knowledge, and wisdom to their community. Writers start writing in solitude but once the work is done writers wish for their words to […]Do Not Underestimate the Writers’ Role in Society.
At the start, I wanted to write to make myself read and heard, for social media is a great place for self expression. I never thought that I had something brilliant to say but the boiling sensation in me was, and is, an indicator that I should write.
My blogging journey began years ago out of desire to write. Little did I know that blogging was hard work and discipline. Little did I know that I will become an addict. So I read, I write and I share interesting posts I find here and there. Because I believe in sharing; generosity is a big value specially in a world of harsh competitiveness.
What I write for? My main question when my posts are not even viewed. On a deeper level, I write because it is therapeutical. Writing is a generous act. None of us would’ve learned anything hadn’t been great teachers and writers to share with us their knowledge through writings. It was ethically and intellectually therapeutical to them as well as it is for me.
I’ve often read that journaling is an effective practice for clearing your mind and focusing on the things you can control (while relieving your mind of the things you cannot control). For those of you that journal, what is your “strategy” for how you organize your thoughts on paper? When I sit down with a […]What are your journaling strategies?
“No person is ever content with their own lives, should they be filling the gap in other people with what they should be filling into themselves.” – Modern Romanticism I have treated pain as the source of my creativity. Though, these days, whenever I write a poem, it is not from inspiration. Sadness has always […]Personal Post – “From Instability to Stability” – 10/17/2020
It is cloudy today Heavy clouds full of rain The sky looks like me today Sometimes covered, sometimes uncovered Shy sunlight in the groovy blues Shall I dance for this matching? No big, no small, only a coincidence That the sky looks like me today Or is it a self-projection? Thinking is blurry, like the sky Repetition kills the mind Eye folded spirits on survival mode Waiting for another unknown Waiting for the misfit rain Feels chilly warm A wintery spring day in the pausing world Life goes on in silence In the groovy sky looking like me