The Twenty First Birth

The journey is never so much about changing landscapes,as seeing them with new eyes........

Writing.

Posted by The Chronicler at 10:56
Just through a blessed Easter weekend, it hit me.I've hardly taken out  an hour over the past two months for something that had transformed into a love: blogging. With my PC out of order, I had a ready excuse, but then again, I could have used the one at the library. It 's been a mad, mad time, but I haven't complained even one of the very, very, many days I've woken up with a throbbing pain in my body. "A body as young as mine can adapt"- I told myself every such morning, but there must be something wrong with work that consumes you so that it has started weaning you away from what you love.

It's heartbreaking that I no longer find an inspiration to write, and the few vague thoughts that cry for expression don't find willing hands. I've always believed that fatigue at the end of the day is awesome. It gives you sleep that is therapeutic.I'm not too sure anymore.

I'm not particularly gifted. My posts often come out garbled at the end of the day, but its a release. But glancing behind I  realised  something else too- my posts form a pattern: A pattern of growth.
Its amazing how starkly obvious this pattern was. In the one and a half year of journey this blog  has seen me through, it has amazingly chronicled personal growth.

And with that realisation, came another: You take a large credit for it.
For all my strong belief that I write for myself and my knowledge that I would continue writing even if  there was no one who read it, as indeed I did for almost the first eight months of my blogging, I know that you reading pushes me on to put an effort to make my words readable. And I know that you reading compels me to draw from a reservoir I didn't even know existed, in times such as these.

Someday, I'll find the courage to write as if no one is reading. To strip to an ugliness that's me. But before that I must continue writing what I write, in the process sketching out my imperfections.

And before that someday comes, I'll keep returning, to this lost corner of the cyberspace,drawing comfort even in its imperfections.


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4 comments:

Meow
8 April 2010 at 11:05

Hey welcome back.. pretty much same thoughts here!!! But I totally love the way you write :) Keep writing for the pattern will grow to the most beautiful design :):)

Love,
Sowmya

 
P. Venugopal
9 April 2010 at 05:25

You write well. I think it is good not to be burdened with any agenda when we write; then only we can write it as it is. Always try writing the best we can, most truthfully we can. That alone shall be the challenge. But don't take my views too seriously either, for we are all different and we have different ways. I knew a great writer intimately--Thakazhi Sivasankara Pillai, who is now no more. He was all for discipline. Get up early morning, take a couple of glasses of water, sit down and write. If you see yourself as a writer, writing is what you are born for and whatever else you do on a day, you are doing it so you can come back to the writing desk and do what you are born for. Be serious about writing, he once told me.

 
The Venk
12 May 2010 at 18:13

I second Meow

 
Southern Drawl
29 May 2010 at 18:43

Catching up with you...School has had me crazy, but I love reading your blogs. They always bring a smile to my face.

 

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