little talks…

“there is nothing to writing.  all you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed…”

ernest hemingway said that.  and he’s right…at least he is in terms of my feelings towards writing.  but it’s not always as easy as sitting down to my laptop and bleeding out…

have you ever written anything and forgotten about it after the words leave your fingertips?  after you’ve put pen to paper or thumbs to touch screen…and suffered amnesia about your word creation ever existing?  that you, at some point in your life’s journey, were in such a magical raw place of pure feeling so great that you had to let it out of you…has this happened to you?

quite frequently, this used to be my life story.  highlight: used to be.

i’ve been experiencing what they call “writers block” only now that i’ve truly suffered from my first real bout of it, i am convinced that the true writer never suffers from a lack of words…the writer is forever blessed of cursed (define it as you like), with a literary jungle of thought…but what i believe constitutes as real “writers block” is purely emotional.  an emotional block.  a barrier of feeling.  all feeling.  a collective “all” because i truly believe that any creator of any one thing is all about the heart.  it HAS to be.  it’s always about the heart of the matter.

the heart is the physical and emotional vessel from which all things brought into creation vein from.  the blood flows and life springs eternal into the stories the writer tells, the life in the photographs the eye captures, the canvas that contains the sounds, colors, life of the paints themselves.  turns out…the “art” in heart…it matters.  if we want to get literal “earth” and “heart” use the same 5 letters, both containing art.  you tell me that’s not symbolism and just coincidence and i’ll start measuring you for your straight jacket…

in my so-called writers block, i discovered that i’ve been emotionally shut down.  it happens…the great writers like hemingway used drink to hydrate their souls, numb them into a level they could tap into that need for bleeding.  unfortunately for me and my writing, i’ve been avoiding alcohol and trying to be sober while doing my self-check ins lately…and truth be told, my emotional block has not been endured over just months of being back in my state side, post travel life, but actually years.  don’t fret, there have been several snippets of time in those years where i’ve been beautifully and emotionally opened up…but majority rules and that’s the go.  i tend to be quite hard on myself so naturally when i was physically and emotionally awakened one morning by this thought, i couldn’t help but wonder the “why” of this new found reality.  why was i so shut down?  did this occur when i returned from my travels that changed my entire world?  did it happen to me before i launched into my one way ticket into the unknown?  when did i stop my wholeness and start robotically functioning on my halfness?  hence the little talks we begin to have with ourselves…the questions come and then we have answers to seek.

my best guess is that on a subconscious level, i just hit the stop button as a defense mechanism and i forgot to press start again.  in doing so, i’ve completely set aside my core self…how could i let this happen you may be pondering?  life.  ugh. so because i haven’t been completely myself lately…7 months lately…and some random bits of time in between there the past two years…a change was naturally on the horizon.  after several months of no real affection or tapping into my heart space, the cynicism tends to creep into the cracks that the broken pieces leave behind…the good news about reaching a breaking point, rock bottom, what have you…the only direction you can go from there is up. with this wake up call, i made an active decision to fly onward and upward…but first, i had to lift the baggage that had been weighing me down, causing my emotional shutdown…obviously not as massive a deal as a government shutdown or when a piece of technology you rely on fails you, but in my world, it was the equivalent.

so as i continue transitioning and creating a life for myself now, i am focusing on my heart space, listening to the universe when it speaks to me and making sure that the baggage i’ve carried with me for so long doesn’t hang around too much longer.  re-reading my old pieces of writing: lyrics, poems, blog posts, etc. helped me exponentially.  embarrassingly enough, i felt inspired…by my own damn writing!  how the hell does that even happen?  when i shared this revelation with a friend he said, “hah!  isn’t that weird how fast we change?  that reading your old writing is like reading someone else’s writing?”  brilliant point.  reading through where i was 6 months ago…8 months ago…was intense.  and i don’t mean where i was physically, but emotionally.  we change so fast.  and with that…so can our hearts…if we let life circumstances and hurt take over.  i’m choosing the art in my heart to help cure me of my blocks…to open me up again to writing and pumping blood into my veins so i can get myself back on the page…where my true heart lies…

so stay tuned…more to come…xxIMG_8683

4 thoughts on “little talks…

  1. poetry often says what your heart can’t find words for – I guess it’s probably someone else’s heart speaking what your own can’t.
    Like this one:
    “they are not long, the days of wine and roses:
    out of a misty dream our path emerges for awhile, then closes”

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