Once again, I find myself staring at a blank page. I always have so many ideas when it’s not time to write, I make lists and plan things out in my head. But then the time comes, I sit down in front of my computer and….nothing comes out. I feel uninspired, so I start to wander. I don’t want to write something that seems forced, I don’t want to have to squeeze out something just so I can say that I did. I don’t want to have to find something from so far away it ends up being gibberish.
I look at a blank page with a few bullet points hastily typed on. Ideas and thoughts I have compiled over the weeks, haphazardly. Unfortunately, the ideas just don’t seem to connect.
So as I sit in front of this list, trying to make sense of it, I write what comes to mind. I write because, as I have said, it is all I really know how to do. I write and I write in the hopes that some sort of coherent thought comes out, although, I know deep down, it probably won’t. At least to you it won’t.
But maybe you have experienced this too? Maybe you, too, have sat or stood in front of something that was meant to fuel your passion, but suddenly felt no inspiration to do it? The motivation might have been there - kept alive by a strong sense of conviction that sits deeply inside you - but the fire, the energy, the passion to actually do the work, waned. You may have felt capable, still, of executing the action, but it would not have been the same as living through it. The former is mechanical, automatic; the latter is emotional, dynamic. Sometimes, I feel alone in this experience, but then I remember that I am not because we are all human. That is one thing we have in common, and no one can change that.
Perhaps these lingering moments, these moments of delay need not be so stunting. Perhaps they can be just as fruitful as those other more passionate moments. Perhaps they are even necessary. It is my understanding that humans need balance, in every aspect of life, even in those areas that are painted as being free from struggle, pain, or effort. Those areas we commonly call passions. For I am almost certain that most people will tell you that they have had to fight through difficult moments even for their passion or life’s work. Just because you love something doesn’t you can’t, at times, hate it too.
Considering I began writing this with no specific theme or plan in mind, it is natural that I end that way too. Awkwardly, I try to wrestle myself free from this metaphoric pen (I am, indeed, slapping my fingers on a keyboard), but I strain. I somehow, for some reason, keep typing, most likely because I like to. It feels good, once you get going. The feeling of translating these errant floating ideas into concrete, fixed words. The thought of actually letting go of thoughts, inevitably leading to another thought. It’s fun, isn’t it? At least to me it is.
But alas, I must go. My will to write is overcome by my penchant for perfection.
I’ll leave you with this quote that has absolutely no relation to what I just wrote about, but I have had it bookmarked for almost a month now, and I don’t know what to do with it. It kept staring at me everytime I looked at it. I tried to stare right back, but instead kept feeling a slight uneasiness wash over me, perhaps because of the weight of its meaning. I’ll let you tell me whether or not it is relevant today. I think I know the answer. Do you?
"History is the hammer. You are the nail."
Quote pulled from the poem “Reciprocity is a Two-Way Street” by Momtaza Mehri