It is a strange feeling how this blog is starting to intimidate me. After a moment of staring at it, something holds me back from writing. My thoughts tend to get shy and tongue-tied at the very sight of its cozy wood background and hints of brown melancholy. The feeling is pretty much the same as confronting a blank paper. When the writer, or an artist, is about to create something, she thinks first before giving it a stroke, afraid to start with wrong lines or imperfect curves. And in thinking too much sometimes comes the doubt of being able to create well and beautifully.
I do not like the feeling. I do not want to get intimidated, especially in creating.I want to be free from anything deterrent of self-expression, self-love and self-discovery. That is what I understand my life is for.
The soul is what makes anybody real, and unique, and alive. It is the powerhouse within which all meaning reside. And life, as I understand it, is the search and mastery of this Self.
You see, the search for the Self underlies everything that we do. It is always our sense of self that direct us to our choices and drives us to be doing what we do. I write because I understand my self as to be having the passion to write. Not necessarily that I claim to be a writer, but that I see myself as a story, which I want to tell and share.
Our sense of self at present reflects how we see ourselves in the future. I think that every goal, and every dream and desire is a drive of our present sense of self. A person dreams to be a musician because in one way or another, he sees himself as a sound. A tone, that is essential in creating a more complicated web of sounds that is music.
Who am I? There is really some level of unexplained difficulty in the question. One that will make us think second thoughts. Though in the usual dealings of life, who we are is simply our name. But if we look at it more reflectively, isn't my name only a word with a picture of my body and physical appearance, with a hint of my personality, but devoid in meaning and depth? No spoken concept is sufficient to answer the question Who am I?. "I am a daughter" for example is a concept that speaks of me. But it is not enough to encapsulate who I really am as separate from anybody else. My sister is also a daughter, and so is my mother. It is not everything that I am. Even negations won't work. Try, "I am not you". But all other people are also not you. What makes me different from all of them who are not you? What makes me who I am that doesn't make you who you are and others who they are? All this questions are borne out from a larger question, Who am I?
Self expression is one way of knowing who we really are. Ironic it may sound, but the dynamics is like that of an athlete practicing a sport. The more he plays the sport, the more he understands it, until such time he gets to devise certain techniques to win. The more you express yourself, the more you understand who you are until you find effective avenues for self-discovery. Others find it in art. Others in music. Others in being with other people, in rearing families and children, in helping out the needy, in consoling friends, and advocating peaceful change. There are countless ways to discover the self, and people around us help in this ventures, both in small and big ways.
I have been writing as means to express. And I don't like how I'm getting intimidated to write in this blog now. Seems like I've run out of the right words to say, which really should not be the case. Self-expression is truth, and is not within the standards of right or wrong. Probably because I kind of forgot who I am.
And this is how I unravel again life as this question.
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