This is what I tell anyone who is having trouble getting something started. For me it is often a nagging feeling of something inside that wants to come out. Sometimes it is that and nothing more; it’s just a feeling, nothing specific. Other times it springs from the residual thoughts of one or many ideas I wish to expand on, or maybe to clarify. Occasionally it is a sense of obligation – a fulfillment of purpose, the continuation of a sacred task that I am here to complete. Then there are those instances like this one where it is all of the above.
This blog is, in some respects, my journal… a diary, as it were. Although I don’t address it in the second person as if it was some kind of alter ego, this has been an ongoing dialogue that recounts my thoughts, told through my experience – my human experience. I don’t use it to recount the ins and outs of my daily life, but rather as a microscope to examine various aspects of it and what, if anything, that reveals. It is a never-ending endeavor and one that has sustained itself longer than most of the projects I have undertaken in my life.
And then I’ll hit these little roadblocks. I don’t like to delete what has already been written (and I have written about this before), but after composing most of a paragraph, it was painfully obvious that it was going nowhere. These words replaced those and at this point, I’m not sure if these will live either. This is frustration. I want more than just carefully composed prose; my desire is for more than just clever insight; there is something on the tip of my mind and I can’t seem to coax it out.
This is my preferred means of expression. It is my art. The best way I have found of expressing that which makes me me is through the written word and right now, all the colors are grey. I can’t seem to render the vivid greens, the vibrant yellows, the radiant reds or the iridescent blues; my palette is empty. Yet the image is there, or at least the formative essence of it is. But it will have to wait for another time, for although I have expressed the frustration of an artist lost, I really haven’t said anything.
But that is something.