I've been struggling to find inspiration for a personal post as of late. And you could say this is a bother- that maybe there's nothing exciting occurring in my life. Or maybe there's too much going on and I can't be bothered to sit down and process it all.
I'm not entirely sure what the answer is here. Things have certainly been happening. Beautiful things, unexpected things, terrifying things, frustrating things. I want to say that life's been simple and simply happy, but it hasn't. But simultaneously I don't feel hopeless. There have been times like this in the past where I've felt as speechless as I do now, but the only difference is that I used to feel like someone had just cut me adrift.
I keep typing, hoping that something'll just bubble to the surface- that the synchronicity between the words arriving on the screen and my thoughts will guide me somewhere careful.
But still I feel that I'm coming up empty.
And upon initial contemplation I'm hesitant to share a post like this. Something lackluster- in prose, in content, in message. But as I watch the cursor rhythmically wink at me, I've decided this type of post is just the thing I feel I should share.
Sometimes life just moves quietly. And I don't mean that it just moves softly. It may, but the quiet can be deafening and paralyzing. Quiet isn't the absence of chaos necessarily. It's also... I guess it could really just be a slightly less sensory way of experiencing something so overwhelming.
So maybe this is a post reminding myself that this sort of silence is okay. And maybe it's okay that I'm thinking in a more poetic realm; that my thoughts are following a sort of melodic line. Just as I feel that chaos can be stated simply, maybe the simple can be stated beautifully as well.
So I write to think,
Create to speak,
Poetically and quietly,
But still just as violently.
