Recently all I want to do is spill out the words that are searching for a home in my head and in my fingertips. Sometimes I don’t even know if I’ve got any words needing a home, I just have the urge to be writing, so I figure there are words in their somewhere.
So much of the time I bring this urge to a halt and do something else instead. Instead of nourishing those words and giving them a home, I send them to live on the streets, rather than in a notebook or a blog post… I imagine these words heading one by one to where all the other discarded longing-to-be-written words that haven’t been expressed in the world, go to live. Like a big old cardboard box full of homeless words, or a big abandoned warehouse that has turned into a squat for these footloose words.
Basically, I just wanna write but I often think, “what’s the point?” … What’s the point if it’s just for fun? What’s the point if it’s just for me, in my journal? What’s the point if I don’t know if anyone’s going to read it? What’s the point when I don’t even know what to talk about? What’s the point if it might just be two paragraphs and then I get bored? What’s the point when I know I probably won’t finish it?
Well…what’s the point in your morning jog when you’re not training for a marathon, or you’re not competing in that marathon that morning? There’s massive point. Your health, your ever-firming butt muscles, the fresh air on your face, your happiness, your alive-ness, your empowerment, your opportunity to get out of the house and snap twenty minutes of freedom. Screw whether it’s for a marathon or an upcoming event, daily jogging is something millions do simply for themselves. Not for any other reasons. Perhaps there’s an underlying reason of wanting better biceps than your mate, but provided this isn’t the ONLY reason that’s making you run, I believe self love is beneath it all. Because just doing it for you, and not for anyone else or anything else, is the most important reason to head out for your morning jog. I see writing just the same way…or at least I now am seeing it that way. My daily writing is like a daily jog. Sure, the only thing I might develop is RSI or a headache from my squinting at the page and atrocious posture, but I am in training…I am working that creative muscle, rather than letting it develop atrophy.
Maybe the words are really happy in their cardboard box, or in their squat having a massive rave with all their newfound word mates…but I want them out on the page. I feel like they’re here to be expressed and I want to embrace that they are. I want to feel empowered by my talent, or simply just my interest. As of TODAY I am trying to embrace my ability to write, my love for it, my excitement about sitting in front of a blank piece of paper, to have these words in my head, and just write…not shove it away out of fear of weirdness or frustration that this urge to write has hit me at 2am when I just want to be zzzzzzz.
It’s not necessarily for anything in particular…it’s just for me.