Musing on writing and the self.
It has been my experience that writing can help us open up portions of us that may be lost or hidden from us at normal times. It can be a gateway into the soul of sorts.
I know that not everyone has this experience, nor do I always end up in a meditation/thoughtful mood when I write. Sometimes I write just to write. Sometimes I have to write for a class, and the pressing thought on my mind is 'why isn't this working? Gaaah!'
However, there are times where I find myself taken over when I put fingerpads to keyboard. I find my fingers dancing across the keys, picking out words that until a moment ago I was not consciously aware of. Trains of thought that were hidden to me until I let go and just typed. Sometimes this manifests itself in a rant, a cathartic release of emotion that's been building up for hours or days or weeks or months. I always feel exhausted afterwards when this is the case, like I've just run a marathon. (Not that I know what running a marathon feels like; as much as I like to pretend otherwise, I am a bit more sedentary than perhaps is healthy.)
There are other times where I am the one typing, but there is another presence with me, making itself known through my fingers and my words and my thoughts and my choices. Some might call it an out-of-body experience, yet I am still there, still firmly ensconced in flesh and bone and muscle. It is much like an overlay in an anatomy book; there are the bones printed on the page, but then there are the transparencies of nerves and muscles and flesh. I am myself, yet I am also another, and my words flow like an endless river. At these points, it is much like meditation, something that I never really got into. I tried yoga once or twice, and the feeling I got then was somewhere between 'oh god my body doesn't bend this way why are you doing this', and 'if it wasn't for the pain, I'd be napping right now.'
I wouldn't say that I necessarily feel relaxed after these sessions. More...sated. A sense that all will be well. Accomplishment. Peace. There may still be tension in my muscles and my head, but I have written from my core, expressed as purely as I can given the constraints of the English language. There are some things that cannot be put into words in any language, after all, no matter how much we may try. But these are the times when things that I may have been thinking about tend to reveal themselves, and the pieces fall together. Not always. But there is a higher occurrence at that point.
Sometimes this feeling never reaches keyboard. I'll be lying awake in bed one night, and then there is this sensation, and something settles over me, and thoughts begin travelling through my head. It's akin to watching a difficult puzzle being put together at high speed.
Maybe this is why I like jigsaw puzzles so much. They resonate with me.
~Telamir
I know that not everyone has this experience, nor do I always end up in a meditation/thoughtful mood when I write. Sometimes I write just to write. Sometimes I have to write for a class, and the pressing thought on my mind is 'why isn't this working? Gaaah!'
However, there are times where I find myself taken over when I put fingerpads to keyboard. I find my fingers dancing across the keys, picking out words that until a moment ago I was not consciously aware of. Trains of thought that were hidden to me until I let go and just typed. Sometimes this manifests itself in a rant, a cathartic release of emotion that's been building up for hours or days or weeks or months. I always feel exhausted afterwards when this is the case, like I've just run a marathon. (Not that I know what running a marathon feels like; as much as I like to pretend otherwise, I am a bit more sedentary than perhaps is healthy.)
There are other times where I am the one typing, but there is another presence with me, making itself known through my fingers and my words and my thoughts and my choices. Some might call it an out-of-body experience, yet I am still there, still firmly ensconced in flesh and bone and muscle. It is much like an overlay in an anatomy book; there are the bones printed on the page, but then there are the transparencies of nerves and muscles and flesh. I am myself, yet I am also another, and my words flow like an endless river. At these points, it is much like meditation, something that I never really got into. I tried yoga once or twice, and the feeling I got then was somewhere between 'oh god my body doesn't bend this way why are you doing this', and 'if it wasn't for the pain, I'd be napping right now.'
I wouldn't say that I necessarily feel relaxed after these sessions. More...sated. A sense that all will be well. Accomplishment. Peace. There may still be tension in my muscles and my head, but I have written from my core, expressed as purely as I can given the constraints of the English language. There are some things that cannot be put into words in any language, after all, no matter how much we may try. But these are the times when things that I may have been thinking about tend to reveal themselves, and the pieces fall together. Not always. But there is a higher occurrence at that point.
Sometimes this feeling never reaches keyboard. I'll be lying awake in bed one night, and then there is this sensation, and something settles over me, and thoughts begin travelling through my head. It's akin to watching a difficult puzzle being put together at high speed.
Maybe this is why I like jigsaw puzzles so much. They resonate with me.
~Telamir