Last night as I was writing, I was trying to evaluate my feelings at the same time. I am not good at multitasking, at the best of times, but being able to get a sense of the current state is useful.
The article started off innocuous enough, but as I was writing, the tone started to change, and my energy started to change with it. This is common, because unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately), I don't really have a clear plan of where a post is going to end up. I have an idea, I start writing, it travels its course and finds itself where it ends.
Is that annoying for you to know?
Maybe. Because it sounds like because there is no plan, there is no effort, but it is quite the contrary, at least for me. This is because all writing is based on my own experiences and all the stories I tell (unless writing fiction) are true. Even in fiction (which I barely write now since the stroke), the stories are analogous of real-life events in some way, more of my experiences, even if through observation only.
These stories make up my life and I generally don't know which ones are going to emerge on a given topic, and often, even if I do have an idea, as I write, a more suitable example might arise. There is a lot of energy expenditure because of this process, because it has to trawl my mind, recall and process what was experienced and then translate that into something useful and hopefully, interesting for the audience.
Have you ever cleaned the attic?
I don't know if you have an attic, we don't. But, I assume everyone has started cleaning their house of a pile of stuff that has been sitting in a corner of the home for years. There might not even be that much of it, but once we start rummaging through and seeing what we want to keep and scrap, we start to reminisce, as the items force us to recall the times of their collection. Looking at old photos of loved ones and ourselves, the shell we collected from the beach on holiday, a box full of old school books. A quick task, can become a long process - because of the value it brings to take that time, to feel through that space.
My writing is a bit like cleaning the attic, except the boxes are filled with memories and feelings, and what I am trying to do is convert them into stuff, something that you can visualize, and relate to. It is a translation of my experience into a form that you are able to understand and hopefully, find some value in also.
We are all storytellers.
This is how humanity has evolved and it is through our stories that we have been able to learn from pasts that we never directly experienced. Whether that be through a cave painting, a tribal song, or a written text. And, we are made to do this, to communicate our experiences with each other. However, in the society and culture we have now, we are experiencing less directly, learning less through our own hand, and consuming more from others, even if it doesn't teach us anything at all.
70% of songs since the 60s are about love.
Why?
I think this is an interesting thing to consider. Yes, there is the technology that allowed us to share music more readily, but why love? I think it is because after WWII, we had a relative time of peace, where we were able to explore ourselves more. And, because of changes in industry, we don't have to work merely to survive, so we have brain power left over to consider other things that are import to us. As a result, who we are has taken a focus, our identity. And as social animals, we visualize ourselves in relation to others, so love, and love lost are natural components.
These love stories are written into songs to illustrate our experiences as an individual, but connect with the audience because they are non-unique, even common. There is a reason that so many people who are going through a breakup spend time listening to Adele's albums. Or people looking for love listen to Taylor Swift.
Identification.
We see ourselves in the story, and we can feel the connection, as it pulls out the boxes from the attic and takes u son a journey through our own lives. It can be cathartic. Or it can motivate us to move on, head into the future with hope. Love is a uniting factor of humanity, a feature that connects us, not a bug that tears us apart.
Fear is also a uniting factor.
It is the opposing force, the flip of the coin, the darkness to the light - or the light to the dark. Some people think that love is light, but perhaps, love is the darkness. It is a place where you can be completely comfortable in uncertainty, not knowing what the future holds, but trusting that it will be okay. Our imaginations can make monsters, but they can also fill the void with beauty.
Do you see the difference?
What kind of story does it tell? Does it depend on whether you live in fear, or in love? Does it depend on whether in uncertainty, all you see are monsters, or you are surrounded by imaginary beauty?
Imagination takes energy, and our brains like to take shortcuts to conserve consumption. So, when we spend all of our time filling our minds with complete information that doesn't make us work, when we aren't experiencing enough life for ourselves, our time is used, but the energy is available for our brain to use. But, without experience and without having to translate what we experience into some kind of story, what are we spending it on?
Spend some time on Twitter and you will see.
It is largely thoughtless, useless, violent, ugly, fearful. It is the worst of us identifying with the worst aspects of our humanity and using them to tear each other down and tear us apart from one another. It is cleaning the attic, throwing away the beauty and only keeping the trash.
It makes us feel, but it doesn't help us heal.
As I write, my feelings change and the worst day becomes bearable, heartache subsides, anger dissipates, sadness lifts. It is an emotional journey that runs my mind through millions of words and hundreds of experiences, keeping only a handful of each to become the story. It gives me energy, but it also leaves me out of breath, and at times, exhausted. Not in a bad way, but like after a good massage that loosens tight muscles and leaves the body wanting to rest, to recover.
At the start, I never know where the story will end.
This one ends here.
Taraz
[ Gen1: Hive ]