I've been going through a lot of my old blogs. Not those here, but on Lucid Iridescence, where I have posts going back as far as 2005.
I'm not really sure why, today I read something that triggered a deep sadness, that although has been there for some time, the expression of what I read just sort of made me think. Sadness is somehow one of those great maps, it often allows us to delve within ourselves and think and ask questions we'd not consider when we are happy. But then again, sometimes it stems all ability to see, it fogs and clouds our senses so that we're as good as blind.
I've always used writing to clear my mind; I started writing as a personal thing, - and I know I've said this before, nevertheless I reiterate -just being able to get down the why I am feeling what I am feeling, the sentiments, and then what I did was approach myself as I would my own best friend and cheer that other me up. That's how I started writing. Sometimes, you don't need to be a poet, or a writer. Just expressing what you feel or think, whatever form it takes, is a start. That's what happened to me. Then, after I had it down I was able to detach from that emotion, because in essence it was like a piece of art that flowed from myself, as if I pulled out the emotion from my heart and it became a sculpture - and I circled it a few times and almost as if it were both a monument to what I felt and a gravestone, I was able to move on.
Not that easily, mind you. It took a lot from me to be able to open up and face what I didn't want to face. It might have taken even more to share it to the world - and not just strangers, but those I came face to face with in every day life.
I was looking at the archives on this blog here, and realized with a start that the number of posts I've written for November are quite few, compared to the other months. I was thinking that I've got a few days in the month left; I'll be able to write off several posts and therefore wouldn't be so short. Because I can't figure out what and why really I haven't been writing so much. There just seems to be this underlying sorrow that seems into everything and steals away warmth, smiles, words.
And this shouldn't be so. There should be something to cure this...maybe we all need to hold hands and skip around in a circle or do the macarena...or ..........Why are you all giving me those looks?
