Honestly, I have spent many hours convincing myself to be more consistent with Instagram, sweat prickling every time I even think about talking to the camera, and self-imposed scrutiny of every picture I consider posting. Captions too short to capture much at all. I’ve decided to return to one of my first loves in this world: words.
Just like getting back with any ex (and I’ve gotten back with a few of mine), things have changed on the surface, and I’m feeling a little unsure whether I’m doing the right thing.
My relationship with words has lost a lot of its spark over time.
Once, the way I created my childhood utopia – an illusion upon illusion;
An anchor for my swirling teenage angst;
The string that wrapped itself around my first romantic relationship, an embellishment that made it look far prettier than it was on the inside.
Then, academia conditioned me to construct words according to rigid blueprints, awaiting approval to deem them structurally sound. The creative life within my writing went underground for a while. So did reading anything much outside of research papers; anything that sung to the senses.
Since leaving those institutional spaces, I have started to emerge from what felt like a winter frost. An overused metaphor, I know, but I truly feel as though this journey is my Spring, in more ways than one.
Catalysts
Last year, I read The Artist’s Way by Julia Cameron. Like most who read it, I was inspired to write morning pages – a flow of words that span three pages, without editing or evaluation. Write, put it away, come back to it in a month or three (or never). I’ve always journalled, another thing that withered in my academic years. However, it was usually when my thoughts were howling at me and I wanted to process. Morning pages were different, resting on the premise that our thoughts are always lifting their chin, parting their teeth, and we can soothe the howl by creating space in our mind – releasing anything that wants to roll off the tip of the pen. This process was solace during a time that I felt alone. It helped me evaluate my relationships (including that with myself) in a healthy way, reconnect with my purpose and desires, and affirm to myself the life that I am worthy of.
This year, I am reading/writing-in Healing with Words by Rupi Kaur. Poetry has touched my life so deeply lately. That’s what I want now, I want to explore the depths of my heart. Over the last 18 months, I have gone into a ‘dark night’ and emerged less afraid of living every moment as vulnerable as possible. I want to witness everything and allow it to witness me in return. That’s poetry, to me. I want to immerse myself in this way-of-being.
So, I’ll be writing much more in this season. Deepening my love for expressing myself through words. Not quite journaling, not quite poetry; both and neither. An offering of what is sustaining my spirit in the hope that it is encouraging to yours.
