I’ve been writing every day as a method to clear a path of healing for me. Writing has always been the most fluent way possible for me to reach a place of clarity within my life. When things get reckless, I write. When I triumph- I write. Even if I’m not sharing everything, keeping a journal and record of what happens is a great reminder to reflect on what life offers. What ends up happening, however, is a formula becomes adopted to achieve proper schedules of releasing what I’m writing. This eventually becomes mundane and then recycled algorithms become the nature of writing. At least for me, this has been the case lately.
When should I release it? Will this gain interest? Am I writing to solely gain interest? As a writer, I’m constantly plotting what stories to release which would engage the reader. I’m also hanging on the whims of innuendo and the symbolism. I enjoy the playground that comes with words and poetry. Escaping with words to find a deeper reality. Not talking so much is actually a window for exploration of possibility.
The word abbreviation is a long ass word. The definition is clear – to shorten. Limiting the space in the room. It’s a journey to write the lines behind and ahead of me. My life is about highlighting the pockets in between my dream and waking life reality. The course of social media is full of highlighters.
This is the age where everything, all at once is being shared. (Even that one status that released way too much personal info😳) This, That, and the *Third* is all over the Internet. These feeds are directly constructed to your own liking. What we want to see are largely based on what we choose. We are selective at best. We choose to ignore or focus on whatever interests us.
What’s feeding you is what others are being fed? “You are what you eat” or I suppose you are eating what’s been eaten by others. It can completely depend on context obviously but we are reminded of the other happenings in the world based on what other people share. Everyone is sharing and some really care, some don’t.
The illumination of poetry helps me escape when the cry for redundancy takes over. I have to give time for digestion – I’m sensitive to energy AF. To emotion. To the thing that makes us react and think. Body Language is telling. (It surreal at times because my subconscious is paying attention deeply) The fire is hot and the truth is to uncover those things that we might want to run away from.
When one adopts the fullness of fire – one is not afraid to be made aware. Truth comes to open you up to your vulnerable misunderstanding.
There is always more to the story than what you’ve heard or processed. Tasting the light means being filled with illumination. Words can be spoken to shift the paradigm of where the sound is soon to go next. In the essence of color and vision is the statement of light. The words will come as long as you stay faithful to the life that you are living. Beautiful days are one with the days that bring sorrow – how well do you pay attention to the cross streets of thunder and sound?
Pages are highlighted by significant details of recognition. I’m taking notes of what is noticeably there. Note for note. Line by line. I’m reading the passages before me as constructed by the passing of time. I’ve found it more efficient to write under the spell of passion. I’m reading the book of life by virtue of experience, constantly highlighting the moments to seize as information. Time must be recycled again and back to the fire I begin. It pleases me only to taste of what can become of myself. To venture far away in my head – dreams that build kingdom out of reality. I want to be real in this moment before I wake up. To discard the mask and swallow the pills of my dreams. The side effect is my waking life. Worming through until I can properly manifest a life I’ve always dreamt.