I’ve blocked out time today to write for me. I can’t tell you the sigh of relief my entire body made as I came closer to the allotted time. I felt myself soften, relax and then dream; what will I write about?
I’m not going to add to the noise today, to the clamour, to make myself heard in the noise of content, nope I’m riffing — on paper.
I’m following my body, one that has sunk slightly heavier into the chair, my legs tucked further under it, my shoulders relieved of the burden to produce a product.
This writing is for me to enjoy my craft, for my mind to see where it wants to go without calculating if this writing will be of value to anyone but myself.
Perhaps this is the equivalent of writing scales, of feeling my fingers on the keyboard, of simply writing for the sake of writing. Free-flowing because I need to, of not being hamstrung by an algorithm.
I often wonder what it was like back in the 1800’s, writing because you wanted to, because you had something to say that mattered to you, without the need to content plan and strategies — did they feel under pressure too?
There were no algorithms, but was there still a need to perform? To jump through the hoops that others set? Because social media is a hoop — it’s an obstacle to a destination, a something to be navigated that today we have to partake in — Medium is social media — they all are.
Oh I know it’s a route to success, to money, to fame and to whatever else you may be wanting or needing, but every now and then I become cross. Teams of geniuses in some room, devising ways to suck our energy, out attention to where they want it to go, instead of where we want it to go. What if we want to daydream? What if today we don’t want the 10 ways to X at the speed of light, what if today we want to riff?
I guess this is the double-edged sword of having everything at our fingertips, perhaps this is even the price. They devise the tune, and we have to learn the notes and chords.
I feel as if I could breathe in my keyboard as I’m writing this, and I’m smiling as I write. I love writing, more than I probably realise and today has been such a gift, that feeling of yes — my time, my time to write, and ponder and see what flows.
I’m not sure this is the flow that many talk about, as I understand it you are supposed to lose track of time, and I’m well aware of the clock next to me, the next thing to do on the never ending list, but I certainly feel happy. I feel at home doing this; like holding a warm hot chocolate and anticipating the first sip, that delight in what you are doing and knowing that the sweet nectar is going to make you feel good.
I keep coming back to it, the lack of calculating, the lack of strategy and planning — none of that’s here — I’m simply sitting in a delightful mist of love of writing.
What a wonderful place to be.