Without actually moving an inch, I can taste the bittersweet magic of writing, of watching as the first few mischievous words fearlessly leap onto the page, not knowing where they are going, or with what purpose, but choosing to follow anyway. I can feel how it feels to get lost in the process by simply closing my eyes. I can savor that moment when I lose track of time and forget where I am, who I am, how I am, why I am; that instant when I’m simply, freely, and easily surrendering and yielding to a force and an energy so deep within myself that it is as if it were All That Is. While the words create as they please by ordering themselves however they desire, I am able to immerse mind, body, and soul into the climax-like feeling of nearing the end, and the ecstasy of knowing that, when it is finished, the masterpiece will finally reveal itself and I will inevitably fall back into the constraints of my physical world and regain consciousness of the limitations I aspire to surpass.
“And in that moment, I swear we were infinite.” – Stephen Chbosky, The Perks of Being a Wallflower
The act of wanting to write is, at times, more beautiful, powerful, and inspiring than the act of writing itself, because when I write, I must face my fears, which are laden with all of the criticisms I have ever received from others, as well as all of the nonsense I make up to try to convince myself that I am unworthy of immortalizing my thoughts and musings on a canvas of paper. It is in the wanting that I am free of all of the (wo)man-made bullshit; it is in the wanting that I am safe.
Yet safety has never led any exquisite mind to greatness, and my mind—make no mistake—is exquisite. I do not write that with arrogance, but with absolute humility and awe. No creation of mine will ever be as magnificent as is the being we call a human, with its mind, body, and soul. I can only hope to offer up the unique essence that arises from the perfect combination of those three aspects within the being I recognize as me.
And since I am here, right now, in this particular state of being called me, I plan on spending every eternal moment of now that I am given attempting to be the grandest version of the greatest vision I ever had about myself, until I cease to exist. Once I leave my body, I give permission to others to do as they please with whatever is left of my writing.
In the meantime, however, I am in charge of what, how, and when I write. I am in charge of whom I write about and to whom I direct my words. I will hold the reins. I will make the necessary decisions. I will choose what feedback to accept and which to discard, although I promise to hear and consider all of it. I will forgive myself for taking a hiatus, for resting, for pausing whenever my soul feels the need. I will not judge myself; rather, I will be understanding and loving. I will be kind to myself first, that I may then be kind to others to an even greater degree. I will give freely, because I always have enough; I have never gone without.
This is my commitment to my Self, this beautiful, magnificent, exquisite, imaginative, restless, crazy Self that cannot envision its own existence without the possibility of writing, no matter what others, as well as my own fears, may think about said writing.
Thank you for reading. May these words serve you, and if they don’t, please toss them and move on. I hope you find that which does serve you, and if you cannot find it, may you have the courage to create it yourself.
Cheers to 2016!
Photo by: Belén Alemán / San Telmo, Buenos Aires, Argentina / Quote by Calle 13, Vuelta al mundo: “I only have a smile, and I expect one back.”