Capturing a Moment

Started this on 12/12/12.  Hmmm.  

Reached the point where everything points to writing. 

Ever gotten to a point in your life where nothing makes sense. I’m here.  Nothing is making sense.  I’m angry.  I’m sad.  I’m having one of those days.  I’m wondering (again), what the hell is going on, who’s life is this and how the hell did I get here?  Is this for real?  Is this actually the life I created...’cause nothing seems to be working right now.  Another dead end.

I keep hearing it in my head, that haven’t-I-told-you-this-before-voice.  “Write, just write.”

Nothing else makes sense.  I could just write about my life.  What if all I ever needed to do was to just write about what is happening?  It couldn’t be that simple.

I could treat this like photography.  If it were, I wouldn’t say, “oh, I’ll get that picture later”.  Photography is about capturing a moment in time.  There is no, later.  It’s now or it’s gone.  Either I choose to take the picture or I choose not to.  If I see writing that way then perhaps I can get what’s in me, out.  Here is a moment in time that needs to be captured. 

It’s not about words.  It’s about feelings. It’s about the feelings associated to a particular moment.  That combination make it unique. 

In photography it’s not about the subject, it about the subject at that particular moment that makes it unique - the lighting, the mood, the angles, the composition of that unique moment.  Writing is no different. 

Aaaah, I think this is a special moment.  I think I have discovered something very important in the evolution of my desire to write.

Brenda Ueland, in her book, If You Want to Write, says, everyone is talented, original and has something important to say.  She says, everybody is talented because everybody who is human has something to express.  Try not expressing anything for 24 hours and see what happens, she says.  Apparently we’ll feel like we will burst and we’ll want to write or draw or sing or make something.

Everybody is original, according to Brenda Ueland, if we speak from our true self and not from the self we think we should be.  If we speak or write from that place we cannot help being original but this joyful, imaginative, impassioned energy seems to die out of us at a very young age.  Why? Because we don’t see what we do as great and important.  We let obligation take its place.  We don’t respect it in others.  We don’t keep it alive by using it.  We don’t keep it alive in others by listening to them.

There is nothing else for me to do.  I am here, at that point where, to make sense of it all I must write.  Write what I live.  Write what I suffer.  I will risk, through fear, criticism, self-doubt, that I may be uninteresting!