My mind is blank. Most likely, it’s empty. I’m lost in a sea of nothingness, staring blankly at the screen before me. Today nothing inspires me. I’m not feeling the emotion I need to be feeling for writing. I’m a bit frustrated, because lately my writings have been nothing but deadwood floating along on the river. There is no set destination. It just keeps floating and floating and floating, waiting for someone to jump in and kick it out of the way.
Perhaps it’s the compulsion of man to be moving about every second of the day, because in the work place it’s stressed about the importance of not standing around. Therefore, I’m used to being mobile, instead of stationary. Such philosophy is good for fast pace work. However, how does one slow down to relax at the end of a hard day? There is so much floating around in the mind, because it has been stimulated by the world.
For the longest time my work has been writing everyday as many words as possible, although my set goal now is to write two thousand plus words daily. When I’m not writing, I’m reading good literature. My reading interests range from fiction, poetry, and nonfiction. I enjoy reading articles pertaining to motivation, science, medicine, nature, and innovations in technology. I’ve been trying to broaden my knowledge to exercise my mind.
As I write, I’m searching out my mind to find the next subject to discuss in this article. It’s a cumbersome process, but I must get to work on it. I can’t procrastinate about my writing, because I’ll worry about being lazy. If I don’t accomplish my writings goals for today, it will be a huge let down. I must stay on course with my set destination.
Although I’m drowsy, it’s not so bad where it will hinder my writing craft and my thought process. It’s five minutes to three in the late afternoon/early part of evening. I started my day late today. I’m alert; yet, restless at the same time. My nerves are starting to get the best of me, because I’m becoming desperate for ideas to write about. I’m almost at the panic mode, because I’m not sure I’ll be able to come up with a total of two thousand plus words today. All I can do is keep plugging away.
I’m going to take in some deep breaths to clear my senses I the hopes I will stimulate my mind. The mind is often stimulated at the wrong time. On many occasions, my mind would be stimulated so much at night I had difficulty in drifting off to sleep. So it is at such times I’d take advantage of the free flowing thoughts which floated around in my head, and write them down in my journal. Sometimes I’d end up filling up several pages worth of material. I’d write continuously until I was drained of my energy. It often helped in removing the restlessness. Therefore, I was able to finally drift nicely to sleep.
It can be cumbersome when enduring a restless need to write something, anything as long as I was productive with my writing. Lately, I don’t feel like my mind has been given a good workout unless I’ve reached my goal of two thousand plus words for the day. It’s a given I have exercised my brain. However, I get lost in the stream of consciousness and let my mind wander in the process of writing. Keep in my mind I click at the keys continuously as the thoughts pour into my brain. Doing so helps me to get every thought into print. Sometimes my thoughts come to me quicker than I’m able to get them down in to print on my computer screen or when I’m handwriting my material in my journal.
There is so much information floating around inside of my mind. I have only to find the write key for unlocking it. When I’m able to unlock the doors of my mind leading me down the path towards enlightenment, I’m festered up by the kindly light offering my shelter from the darkness floating around in the very depths of my spirit. There are no conjugal visits from my past selves when I’m lost as to who I am. However, they do show up during times critical for finding the way back toward my path I started out from.
On my plight of rediscovery, I come across the future selves who guide my on my quest towards my destiny. For on the paths I walk, I find several doors to walk through. Once a door is opened I have no choice but to walk through it. There is no running away from the unknown, because I have already chosen my fate. Although future can be changed depending on the decisions on makes, I believe the choices are laid out before us through the divine. I do believe the Lord has given us free will to chose which doors for us to open and walk through; however, it was up to him to delegate the doors which are created for us prior to our own beginnings. At least I like to believe so.
For there is a mighty hand reaching down into the darkest pits and pulls out the scorned and the meek, leading them into the light of the holiest fold. It’s not always an easy road, but there are lessons learned along the way. It’s a matter of analyzing one’s own past to find out how he got to where he is at the given moment in time. I make the conscious effort to embrace my past; however, it’s sometimes a struggle not to enable myself to live in the past. I must get away from such inner struggle so as to move into the world of tomorrow, creating a new life for myself. In doing so, the future has been brought into the present to live a life which is fulfilling and rewarding.
Although there are many definitions of a fulfilling life depending on the road one chooses to take. I’m still struggling with the path towards being intentional with my writing. I’m not sure what my primary focus of my writing should be. I enjoy primarily writing poetry, fiction and some nonfiction pieces based upon my own experiences. During my college years, my creative writing professors have always stressed the importance of a writer writing what he or she knows. I strive to do so through writing either about my own personal experiences with given situations and issues or about things I’ve observed happing to others.
Deep down there is a light and darkness floating around the wounded soul. In light of such things, he must overcome his turbulent past through facing it. Often it would mean writing about his past; thus, reliving it temporarily through his mind so as to get rid of the negative energy floating around inside of him. In doing so, he promotes self healing. Writing everything down not only enables me to make sense of the world and of my life, but I’m enabled to obtain a clearer perspective as to why I am the way I am. I come to know myself. When I come to know myself, I come to know others. Therefore, I see myself in others. When I see myself in others, I come to understand them internally. When I understand them internally, all misconceptions and judgments are removed. When all misconceptions and judgment are removed there is room for the holy light to enter my inner dwelling. Therefore, I can embrace my own path, and move forth into a world filled with vibrant colors of light.
There is an erasure of memory down the ways of faltered hearts. However, the old memories are replaced with new ones. When the pain is erased from the memory, there is room made for inner peace. There is the opportunity to dwell amongst the heavens. Heaven can be found on earth through the relics of time and space. For every journey I encounter I’m made stronger by the ease of my pen. For it is the pen which moves across the page bleeding its ink into flowing words.
A fever burns inside of my soul, because of a festering rage which torment. There is the lack of solace filled with so many distractions. The winds blow stronger, and the fires rise higher, bringing down everything in its path. For in the ways of the shepherd, there is a call to be heard which consists of his children’s cries for help. In the days of fire, winded breaths die out. However, I cry out for redemption of a yearning which came to a close after the white winged dove fell from the sky. For the cinder of her Trollope errors are faced with unease in the heart. Sealed in times reward are follicles waving about in the breeze, if only they can be cleansed by the salt burning inside of my tears.
I’m encased inside my tomb awaiting to be let go to sail up through cotton clouds. If only to drink in the oils falling down heavens face. Is there no other way to embrace the truth? For the hold you have upon my heart mangles my spirit. The soul is stipend when I toss and turn in the middle of the night hoping to catch a glimpse of the forest I once ran into. Now, I’m lost in a world of thorns which poke the bottoms of my feet when walking on your dirt floors.
I savor every glimpse of the holy light, encumbering word and deed. However, where have my thoughts gone to when the hours end my seasoned breaths with their loneliness?
Am I to breathe in dust which floats in the wind? How can the bond between my heart and the tyrant be broken when all has been washed up along the silvery rain? For only gifted horses can run free in the wild. How I often wished for an easier stoke to feed my calling with erasure. Only then could my mind be cleansed of the soot clogging up my core.
So for the sake of the rain, I run into a brick wall. When my skull is broken, I can leave earthly remains and fly into the wings of an angel drifting by me. For I now await the days of the panel to be open unto me. Should your fires exceed the length of my headdress, then I shall belong to the sealant which is caught up on the tales as old as fate.
I shed my past like a snake leaves behind layers of its skin. For I now exit the old body to walk into the world of new.
Kneeling down before colors of the wind, I bow my head and whisper songs strewn from your grave. For the read, “He who walks with the caveman shall bleed out his own soul when dark clouds emerge over his head.”
I seal up all illusions tight into a box. For there is nothing to blockade my heart from experiencing ways so sung out and true. Shadows, you may lurk all around me at night when I lay my head down upon my pillow, but I shall not allow you to follow my into the world of dreams. It is there my light is left whole in my soul, and the Lord walks beside me to shield me from your taunting words. He speaks with the sprit of the white winged dove to hallow out my bones, enabling me to see. For every song bleeding out from my heart a new seed emerges from the earth. When your fire starts to call upon me, I shall be guided away from you by the North Star. My wounds shall not be rekindled by your fire. I intend to burn through your eyes, and seal up your folly. Camphor milks away my tears captured by visage; however, I’m reminded everyday to know myself so I may come to realize true essence within me.
© Copyright, Kiki Stamatiou, 2016