With Eyes Anew

It is a common fear shared amongst artists of all mediums- the dread of emptiness.

No, I am not referring to that gaping void in your soul (most artists have that anyway).  I mean the blank page, the white canvas, the unfilled tracks, or in my case, the blinking cursor. 

Despite the desire to constantly create, actually doing so can be intimidating.  Even with ideas already in hand for blog posts, convincing yourself that you can concisely and interestingly articulate your point of view is a whole other matter. 

“We are the dreamers of the dreams.”

But instead of seeing the whiteness as an obligation to fill, I am trying to look at it as a challenge to overcome.  Even better yet, to see it as an opportunity in which to release all those jumbled fumbled mumbled thoughts always staggering over each other in my brain.  While the blank page’s mere presence seems to be an effective antidote to a diagnosis of overabundant thoughts, I am determined to pull some of those strains from my infected brain and lay them before myself and others to view, ponder, and critique.

I am currently in the process of experimenting how to best hold myself accountable to my writing.  I have thought about writing early in the morning when my thoughts are still fresh and not tainted by the exhaust of each day’s activities.  Conversely, I love to set pen to paper late in the evening when wrapped by cover and night shroud.  After a run also seems possible as I come across many of my musings while my feet navigate the city streets.  The most important thing though, is not when I write, but simply making sure I write at all.

It reminds me of a quote I heard once in regards to running.

“Be not afraid of going slowly; be afraid only of standing still.”

Everyone can apply this to their life in their own way.  To me, it resounds loudly in multiple aspects.  Whether it is training my body physically, in relation to the journey of progressing through my life, or expressing my creativity through the written word.  I never want to stand still.  I never want to stop trying to be better.  When the shoes come off, when the determination fades away, when it is the pen’s side and not the pen’s point that rest against paper, it is then that I will have truly lost myself.

So why does the emptiness scare me?  After asking myself this question time and time again, I think I finally realized the answer.  You can’t find meaning in the emptiness.  But you can create it there.  Meaning, significance, purpose- it can only be found within the words, the actions, and the experiences that we write, fulfill, and live.  When I look at a blank page, it is only that.  But when I look at the page that has words, on that same surface I can find previously unknown truths.  Through that expression, I can find meaning.

When did who I was

Transform into who I am

Oft I miss myself

To miss Haiku Tue

Is tantamount to sinning

For I have failed you

Ironic, it seems

We shape ourselves like monsters

To live as children

We are supermen

With limitless potential

I am anything

How strong words can be

When elocuted with grace

And riverbed ease

A week passes by

With no creative release

Poems do no justice

With your rainbow sounds

I remember the rapture

My heart feels for you