A decision to shine.
A decision to be.
I have always struggled at the idea of a blog. Well, at least in the context of one where you write in an opinion, a take of a day, a commentary on a scene, or spill out a thought - voluntarily, out onto a sheet to be read by anyone all the while not asked by no one in the very first place. I find this idea is very conflicting and in extreme dissonance with it.
-Not to be mistaken for introversion.
It is more liken-able to someone who prefers to listen more than to contribute opinions on every single thing that comes ones way (well, what’s the need to?). Stretch it to when not-asked for it and one would understand my take on this. Although I thoroughly enjoying writing and sketching things on paper , I have never felt the need to pull it out and people to have a commentary on it. Then I realize I am no artist of words and a blog is not for art’s sake.
I have sudden pangs of revelations where I realize that the very many I look up to, those who have been my lighthouses on hazy days, and anchors in stormy ones were almost unanimously opining experiences and revealing inner most vulnerabilities clear as crystal to the crowd when no one asked for it.
I wonder what if Emerson never chose to write about Walden for those experiences were his own. Nietzsche, Schopenhauer, Goethe - exited with sketching their deepest sorrows onto an indifferent crowd only to prove as guiding light to thousands that would follow a hundred years later. Though scattered as stars are, miles and miles apart, yet the light never fails to reach where it needs to and where it is needed. Marcus Aurelius , although an exception that kept the journal to himself , I am would have slipped in words that poured nothing but wisdom.
The ant-life post a couple of months ago was precisely an exercise to reveal a part of myself that I, on an otherwise normal day will have no reason to bring up, no reason to be understood, nor be asked about. Yet the chunk reveals me a bit better than my opinion about the day’s weather.
I guess at the end of the day, there is a joy in hearing and being heard. And maybe it is the joy i have missed for long. A long long time.
I think the paradox of self-expression to utilize elements of oneself to create something to leave behind , a proactive effort of wanting to reveal oneself in the most honest way though one of the very few things that bring true joy also slightly weakens the knee, when such an effort sometimes feel like echoing into empty mountains.