I set up this account over a month ago with the intent of starting to apply some discipline to my writing. And, in that time, I have found more reasons not to begin than I can count. Today, realizing that I have to start somewhere, I remembered how it all began. My life became a story out of necessity. I became a storyteller.
For the first time, in this moment, as I write this, I can see how, perhaps, I use too many commas… Teeheehee! (Maybe not the first time on that one. I can ramble when struck by enlightenment.)
I have never questioned that my desire to communicate my perspective was inborn. I have always felt, both emotionally and physically, an “energetic” connection to something greater than myself. I feel more like a messenger or conduit than a creator. As I wrote the words “I became a story-teller out of necessity” I was, quite literally, recording an epiphany in progress. In a blink, I could see a whole new layer of influence on the cautionary tale I have become.
Could it be that simply sitting to write generated the connection? Or, did I chose this activity because the thought was waiting to be expressed? So often, when I sit to write, it seems the words are not crafted by me. They are revealed.
Perhaps that is sheer laziness. Or, an aversion to responsibility. Perhaps it is protective. I can’t be rejected or ridiculed if I don’t share. I can’t be held responsible for the message if I don’t claim ownership (which is a subject for another time). In truth, all of it is based in fear. I came from a chaotic place. And, I was always aware that the chaos was not intended. It was the result of generations of human error and the unavoidable suffering that we can create trying to “fix” things. It muted me. I learnt early that the road to hell is paved with good intentions. My life has been full of them.
All that said, I have to stop finding excuses not to begin. The point is not necessarily to have a direction. It is to find it. Since before I was able to write a word, I created my own worlds to escape to. Creative catharsis was my catalyst. I am embarking on the adventure of taking myself seriously as a writer. As an artists of many ilks, actually. Having long referred to myself as a “Hack-of-all-Arts”, I am now allowing myself to openly identify as a “Multi-Disciplinary Cath-art-ist”.
What does that mean? In a nutshell, I express things that move me in the hope of moving others. Of offering some value. Often, there is something uncomfortable in there. Life is like that. I do want to note that not every tale of woe is an indulgent “pity party”, as so many like to call them these days. They are often told as much, if not more, to convey both valuable lessons and demonstrate human resilience. Suffering through trials and tribulations is strength, not weakness. Likewise, is the expression of that suffering.
So, we begin at the entrance to the labyrinth that is my creative mind. I am offering to take you with me to find its centre. And, perhaps, help you navigate your own.
