for life’s not a paragraph

And death i think is no parenthesis

     Writer’s block is perhaps a physical event. Something wrong with the being. The body saying no to the mind perhaps. Even writing; I think the rhythm of one’s body is somewhere in your prose and style. It can be felt. It can resonate.

     I used to want to be a fantasy writer, and create an epic. Multiple books, thick and spanning lifetimes, peoples and kingdoms. It was a time when I was truly healthy and happy, my body was humming with vigor. I was in flow, creating an entire magic system, that at least to me, felt original. The symbols themselves, the backstory and lore and how the physical symbol looked.

     I eventually lost those books that contained it all. During the months and years after I also lost my health; that certain energy that effortlessly pushes your mind and imagination forward. It’s like when you are walking, and come up with ideas and inspiration without trying. But if I had to choose whether to lose the writings or my health (my body), I would choose to lose the writings themselves. The fountain or inspiration that pours from your ‘bodymind’ can’t be replaced, faked or replicated. You cannot fake it! You (your thoughts/mind) can lie and deceive yourself but your body NEVER lies.      

     If you try to lie to yourself and deny who you are, or what you were meant to be. If you are shorn from your Wyrd. . . . it seems it ends only in personal tragedy. Perhaps the body becomes more stiff and tense. Fragile and brittle. Twisted and broken.

     The point is this, repeated; you cannot make yourself something other than what you are. There is something within you that is ineradicable and unalterable. I’m not necessarily saying its the soul. But it could even just be your orientation of your physical body and the way its set up; this is both a freeing and horrifying truth. Perhaps, more freeing.

     I’m also not saying there isn’t flexibility to one’s body and developing and strengthening it, or your personality. But there are limits! Tabula rasa is a cursed way to think. Would an eagle refuse to fly, because it was convinced by philosophers it was better to walk? Or a lion to stop hunting because someone came up with the right word salad to deceive it.

for life’s not a paragraph

And death i think is no parenthesis

     Writer’s block is perhaps a physical event. Something wrong with the being. The body saying no to the mind perhaps. Even writing; I think the rhythm of one’s body is somewhere in your prose and style. It can be felt. It can resonate.

     I used to want to be a fantasy writer, and create an epic. Multiple books, thick and spanning lifetimes, peoples and kingdoms. It was a time when I was truly healthy and happy, my body was humming with vigor. I was in flow, creating an entire magic system, that at least to me, felt original. The symbols themselves, the backstory and lore and how the physical symbol looked.

     I eventually lost those books that contained it all. During the months and years after I also lost my health; that certain energy that effortlessly pushes your mind and imagination forward. It’s like when you are walking, and come up with ideas and inspiration without trying. But if I had to choose whether to lose the writings or my health (my body), I would choose to lose the writings themselves. The fountain or inspiration that pours from your ‘bodymind’ can’t be replaced, faked or replicated. You cannot fake it! You (your thoughts/mind) can lie and deceive yourself but your body NEVER lies.      

     If you try to lie to yourself and deny who you are, or what you were meant to be. If you are shorn from your Wyrd. . . . it seems it ends only in personal tragedy. Perhaps the body becomes more stiff and tense. Fragile and brittle. Twisted and broken.

     The point is this, repeated; you cannot make yourself something other than what you are. There is something within you that is ineradicable and unalterable. I’m not necessarily saying its the soul. But it could even just be your orientation of your physical body and the way its set up; this is both a freeing and horrifying truth. Perhaps, more freeing.

     I’m also not saying there isn’t flexibility to one’s body and developing and strengthening it, or your personality. But there are limits! Tabula rasa is a cursed way to think. Would an eagle refuse to fly, because it was convinced by philosophers it was better to walk? Or a lion to stop hunting because someone came up with the right word salad to deceive it.