"To be at peace with ourselves, we must know ourselves." -- Caitlin Matthews
It takes the most heart-piercing letter to pick up where my old pen, notebook and I had left off. Raw and deep, the message moved me to tears. It's the most beautiful gift from a literary soul mate's heart to mine. From a warrior to another warrior. Profound words that found its way directly to the very core of my being. I am most grateful.
It takes me back to the time when the World Wide Web (WWW) feels strange, new and intimidating. The encouraging e-mails I often received from Mr. Reid back then inspired me to take on blogging. That was at the time when I had just started writing for print. When metatags, site map, Copyscape, Statcounter, hyperlinks and search engines were all foreign to me, Mr. Reid's lovely wife, Ms. Lydia was the most patient and efficient "web tour guide" leading me towards building my very first home in the Web. Blogging was a whole new world. It made me soar. It set me free. It let loose the wild and creative side of me. That was then. I want it to be that way again.
Somewhere along the line, the muse deserted me. A year had gone by since I've last been in this quiet corner. Countless efforts to put words on paper, or directly onscreen, came to naught countless times. It is frustrating. A heart-wrenching struggle. The very source of joy had stopped giving. The creative juices ceased flowing. I held on to my camera in lieu of the pen. I found comfort in my still photos when my brain's on a hiatus from the written words... Still, a huge part is missing. My inner voice is screaming. It screams the loudest in the stillness of the night. In the stillness of any moment. In the solitude of the urban jungle. I couldn't hush the voice nor tame the chaotic play of words in my head and forever trap them in written words. In those times of physical activity, when writing's not possible, those evasive words would then be executing synchronize dancing in my head, knowing which and where each word falls... but when it's the sacred time to scribble them they're out of range. On the rare times I succeeded to put pen to paper, I'd scrutinize my work and find it lame and shallow, written on another voice not completely mine. As I now write this, a blogger friend, Israel sent me a note stating exactly what is it about. He said, "We all have periods in our course of writing when we wanted to quit (or scrap our work), thinking we've written something ugly or worthless. That's when groups come in handy." Yes, we turn to our little group of literary friends to give us the push we badly needed.
That badly needed push came from a dear fellow TF writer friend, Fei. It brought me back here -- my home in the Web. Her note is a treasure. Part of it says...
"You have inspired me to dwell more on the creative side of me. Radiate further to others as this brings a different stage of them.
Please write. Take the inspiration from every human exploit you come across, more possibly to that part of the Filipino population who lies at the bottom, like us, but who recognizes the light and eccentric self which enable them to turn life round that special bend to make a difference. At least.
You have inspired me. Please continue to do so. For some other who believe in change for the better."
1 comments:
I will always come back to read and feel the strength I see here, the very same joy I turn to for comfort...
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