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a dialogue to understand
"the writer's
view" june 18, 1991 11:20 am
to write
from the whole being the writer can not capture the true essence of
what it is he is trying to communicate. writing is that of fragments
each unto its own universe. the fragments develop in his mind in
order to reach and discover his world, his voice and provide a path
of travel. it is not important to know the absolute direction of that
or those paths he writes to, of, or from. he begins in darkness,
chaos; his emotions, ideas, experiences carry him to a destination,
many times more than not, to an unknown place, "deep,
fathomless, and undefinable." he becomes the inner and the outer
world, turning his voyage inside out, upside down, sideways and
produces whatever it takes to bring his thoughts into view, his view.
the writings are the diggings of archeological findings that he
chooses to invent from the past and the future. there is, most of the
time, no goal, just words that formulate themselves from his mind and
the deepest of self. the deeper he digs, the fragments become his
dream, his faith, his voice. most of the time dead ends; he
fragmentizes so much that confusion takes the place of reality; and
in turn he spends much time thinking and regrouping the words that
appear in front of him. at times he must separate himself from his
writing so that it stands alone and as not to reflect his own manhood.
failure as a
writer is not necessarily the failure of the man, but time, maturity
and discipline is what makes thoughts vibrant, fertile and riveting.
the writer is the man; the man is the writer, inseparable at times,
but to be on the edge, to face head on the unknown and wrestle with
it; both the man and the writer are placed on hold and faith. it
seems apparent the loss of what one loves so deeply, profusely, and
profoundly permeates his world, forcing him to the boundless horizons
of self expression. expression from what he has loved so, given up,
and separated himself from. he writes from the edges and in turn is
the outsider, looking in, towards the dark of day and night trying to
establish his authenticity, to learn, realize more, make less from
confusion, to articulate, analyze, synthesize all at the same time.
to make time, that seems motionless, move once again and not stand
still, thus making the waves foam as they pound the shores of his
mind. his mind can only attempt to go forward by taking the steps
backward, up, down, sideways, over, under or the progress is not
realized. often, more than not, he writes of what he does not
understand, that in hope, with gained knowledge the words and
thoughts will become more clear and define those illusions. sometimes
it is the decaying of those illusions that give them growth/life. it
is the dismantling, the erosion, of those illusions that drive the
writer to his maybe freedom. writing is most definitely not an escape
into or out of reality of everyday life: it is the deeper side of the
writer who is trying to be reborn, renewed, refreshed where the
waters are black, deep cold and numbing in the sterility of the
darkness which leads to his freedom. it is at times, again more than
not, awkward, the paralyzing fear of being tongue-tied, naked,
unsheltered and bare boned that handicaps him with apprehensiveness
in waters of strong current where life preservers are non-existent.
his words are daring; for if not, why proceed...his mysteriousness is
what keeps him alive, not talent, not technique, not
education......he creates from with-in his own daring ; no support,
no life-line; writes, he just does, from his dreams,
frustrations, desires and gut reactions surrounded by fields of anxiety.
"create"
june 17, 1991 8:45pm
creativity or
perhaps more profound-"creative individualism"-is a search;
directed, exaggerated, fabricated; the emancipation of self and its
awareness, authority, controls, limits narrowness and society's
restraints. it is intellectual pushing, shoving, jumping in the
middle, to reach one's own beyonds and yet still further reach for
the unknown edge. to be on the edge, to make one's own reality, to
exhaust every possible avenue of expression, means, goals, to
challenge the pure essence of life and yes even death. it is "the
death of the self" that forwards and promotes onwardness,
forwardness, the invention of the new world, its meanings and its
beyonds. each word becomes death and dies so the following one can
live and develop its own meaning of individualism. it is the making
of a new horizon, boundless territory, virgin bloodless ground that
is sought. it is to ignite the mere soul, to burn from within, to
capture life itself and then to release it, dismantle the birdcage
and allow the full beauty in the freedom of flight. it is to make
dreams creamy, mellow yellow or to walk on hot scorching coals that
scar the already scarred tissue of desire, passion...to wrestle
with obscurity, to tangle with opposites, to define a new alphabet,
escape the ordinary, redefine the forevers of tomorrow, bring to life
a meaning that has never yet been felt and triumph from it, to be the
magician---preform the magic---be the warrior and escape and evade
death itself and bring the mind to that of the rainbow, multicolored
and endless. it is the creativity that seems effortless, the
perfection of illusion that is what it is all for and about. the
simpler the better....less is more...more is too complicated and far
less. the fact remains that the most simplest form is the most
difficult to achieve and in order to attain freedom, discipline is a
severe ingredient, no matter what we are taught. the fuel that feeds
creativity is profound and sheer heart ache, brick by brick, layer
upon layer; it is failure that is what success is built on. the
restlessness of the heart, its loves, passions, desires and
friendships alone make the process take fold. to kiss the lips of
death "herself" is the ache, the pain and the tearing of
the flesh loved heart. profound beyond "profound love" is
most definitely pivotal/essential. it is the imperfection of that
love, that is so dishearteningly dampened and the struggle to secure
it becomes a battle of a life time. to define love is like to define
death; there are no perimeters: only the aches of heart beats that
center themselves in the manifestation of the creative process. to
love, is to surrender; full surrender is the acceptance of suffering,
defeat, pain and failure. it needs to be viewed not as "negative
or depressive," but observed as being
"positive"....dealing, handling, using the process to fuel
the creative appetite....no matter how excruciating. the process is
only achieved through discipline and time....short, long, whatever
the duration; it is time that makes us what we are and thus how we
develop into ourselves as to achieve the voice that feels and
welcomes our words: making us whole, "once more again." if
we stand still, we are motionless and take no risks. risks,
uncertainty and danger, is the question that creativity represents.
it is to act
intuitively, not instinctively, that brings the creative mind to a
higher law than what most are accustomed. that law is
"love," which is tolerance, suffering, and allows all to be
as they are.....it is the true meaning and essence of sacrifice.
creativity is love
love should be creativity
life is art
art is life
art and love is
full and total surrender
"balanced
man" june 19, 1991 3:00pm
the balanced
man takes whatever is in his stride of equilibrium and measure:
consumes only what he can digest............................................
what about the
unbalanced man: balance is what he can not, consumes each inch around
him and measure is not in his vocabulary; except when inches
determine what he must create and build next. is this man empty of
spirit; not religious; not whole? does he not make the paths of
travel for himself; is his heart the navigator of his being or is he
of shallow mind which is non-illuminated and non-productive? is this
man terrified....slipping away from the light into darkness, from
seen to the unseen and is he a man who does not have war with or
within himself? is he the man who realizes the deeper process of his
inward convictions; that truth is a paradox and that he is a refugee
in the world in which he lives? does his freedom derive from balance,
discipline and the illumination of life's experiences? can he stand
alone, be his own healer and not be horrified, paralyzed or assaulted
about his aloneness? is this man afraid to step out of the
"middle ages" and enter and make known his awareness in the
new "age"! does this man understand crucifixion, what the
differences are between it being understood symbolically, from
literally..does he? and does he have unlimited circulation of his
mind, his heart, his life; everything? and does this man test
himself; and from his awareness does he sleep more soundly; does he
get beyond phantasy and dreams once he awakens.......does he?????
dialogue inspired:
henry miller; "wisdom of the heart" references to;
from; by; e. graham howe
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8:50am
