Would you rather keep writing or die trying?
Choosing to keep writing is probably a better option than choosing death. We are all going to die one day, but we often worry too much about living forever and never try anything different. Perhaps we are always in survival mode, and that is the only mode we know.
If we are always in survival mode, then we will never try anything new, like writing in a daily journal or starting the novel we have always wanted to write. But if we are going to die anyway, why do we put so much weight on every action that we are unable to move? Why must every action be faced with a boring and dull reaction? Why can't we break free from survival mode?
The years that I did not write were years in which I literally carried the weight of the world on my back. I worried so much about what everyone said or thought about me. Doing something that pleased others was the only thing I could think of doing and upsetting the status quo meant that the world was going to stop, so I never did anything different. I did only what my family and friends wanted me to do, and what the world expected of me. It hit me hard when I finally came to the realization that time wasn't mine to possess. The idea shook me to my very core. If death was the worst possible outcome, then why couldn't I do anything about it? I had to break free from the chains of survival, which meant that I needed to go back in time and try to understand who I was and who I am.
No matter how hard I attempted, with each cycle in my mind, the world spun at a dizzying pace that only seemed to increase, leaving me unable to keep up and decelerate. It meant I had to catch up with the speed of the waves and the cycle and the ever-increasing speed of life, and I couldn't move my hand on the page or type at such speed. It meant that I was going to crash and burn. It was difficult to tap into the hidden or the unknown, but I started with journaling and writing diaries, poems, reflections, and anything that came to my mind, any thought that crossed my mind at that time. After many years of tracking the fast circles, doing something fast, things started slowing down. How did that happen?
I thought that by writing more, I was building my confidence and improving my writing skills. Maybe I was, but it didn't matter. The point was not to impress or please anyone else; I was doing it for myself. I
We might think that what we do matters, but the truth is that learning that we are not perfect is the best medicine. We are often obsessed with how we look to others or how we feel about ourselves, competing and gossiping, but it all doesn't matter. Our ancient brain plays tricks on us, making us think that we need to please others to survive. But knowing the facts is only the first step; the second step is admitting it, and the third is taking action. Action produces momentum and endless energy, eventually leading to a state of flow.
We will never be truly happy with what we do or have, and we will always worry about reaching perfection. But the truth is that we all suck. I wonder often what readers will think of my writing or if anyone will even read this blog post that I am writing now. But really, who cares? It's easy to publish and unpublish something, to do and undo something, rather than never doing it at all. Because if we do try something new, even if we fail, we might become a different version of ourselves, not better, just different. And maybe that difference is the image of ourselves that we desire or the person we wished we could be when we were children. We can never know unless we start writing today. Writing needs to become part of our mechanical and physical processes, changing our brain waves from fast cycles to slow ones.
We cannot slow down our brain cycles by moving forward, as the only way forward is to go backward. I don't mean living in the past, but rather getting rid of the past. It means breaking the habits of going fast by slowing down, and realizing that survival is our worst option. Survival is fast, but the real meaning of living is slow. Slowing down the rhythms starts with moving our hand on the page, and typing the words on the keyboard. The road to living starts with realizing that we are dead. We can never beat time, but we can decide to start living now: We can decide to start writing now.