Tag Archives: writing

Musings on the State of just Being (or My Days of Doing Nothing)

I have been in a state of not having to do something or be somewhere on any particular day or hour for a few days now, a state that is partially voluntary, yet it is not a vacation.

Here is what I have observed so far:

I found myself waking up earlier than I usually did when I had work.

I noticed the details of my house more intently.

I only did things that I wanted to do, not that I had to do and found that I liked doing a lot of the things that I thought I “had” to do!

I found that each day had its own rhythm and it was best to surrender to those rhythms of high energy and low energy.

I thought about things a lot more clearly.

I felt emotionally liberated in that I could feel whatever I wanted to feel without any pressure or control.

I had some very interesting and profound conversations with people.

I discovered that staring at the wall for an hour was not boring at all, but was a sort of peaceful meditation, and a great way to let the mind wander and ponder some deep issues.

I discovered new writers that made me feverish with intellectual excitement.

I got really good as SUDOKU.

I reconnected with reading.

I reconnected with my plants.

I did not for one second feel bored or restless.


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Filed under Arts, Literature

A Generation Gap?

“Oh my god I’m getting old”…

This realization is triggered by catching yourself criticizing the music that the kids today listen to… or hearing that someone in your family that you thought was born last year, is graduating from college, or getting married!

There are moments in our lives that we are faced with the fact that we have aged; we have become those people that as youngsters we regarded as ‘old’. Our own image of ourselves is shaken when we find that how we see ourselves is quite different from how others see us.

What prompted this rant?  Well I met a young writer a few days ago and we talked quite a bit and I found her ideas very interesting.  Here is an excerpt of an email she wrote to me:

“Older people are usually taken by the most trivial of things, like cleaning their car and organizing shit but your car was pretty messy and that is a complement! It is such a pleasure to meet a mind that has overcome the test of time and haven’t aged, for you have endless energy that I felt through your writing!

Not only am I an older person, but an unorganized mess too….

My dear young friend, (whom I remember as a baby) if you’re reading this don’t take it the wrong way at all, I really appreciate your comments, they mean that I am actually defying aging on some levels.

Age is an attitude, that is somewhat true.  I may not act my age most of the time because of my lifestyle: I’m single, and pretty unconventional in my life and thinking, so my image of me is much younger than I actually am, how others see me is probably very different!

As a young woman (when I was in my early 20’s) I promised myself that I would age gracefully and embrace the maturation process, as I moved on in years I found this promise very hard to keep, “What a drag it is getting old” by the rolling stones comes to mind…

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Freelance Writing As it is

I always wanted to write for a living, and as often happens in life, things don’t work out exactly the way you want them to. I worked in many domains and lately I finally succeeded in making writing my main occupation.

You know the saying be careful what you wish for?? It turns out writing for a living (as a freelance writer and editor on different projects) amounts to word peddling, I really don’t want to use the stronger term intellectual prostitution, but there I’ve used it.

Writing the ideas of others, rephrasing their skewed logic and syntax, and developing texts of no real relevance to my own view of life is exhausting, and even humiliating at times. I can live with that, it’s a small price to pay to get out of the typical employee lifestyle.

What I find most difficult and hard to digest, is that I have so little time to think!!! A writer is a thinker first and foremost, and not having time to think (just to clarify: what I mean by thinking here is pondering, examining, reading, researching) about so many things I would like to write about is frustrating.

I try to convince myself into thinking that this work induced creatively unproductive state is a needed stage, “I’m storing ideas to cook up on long winter nights, or when paying jobs stop coming”, and I also hope that the paying jobs keep coming!

This is not to say that all the work I take is of no interest to me, or that I don’t get a sense of satisfaction when I finish a job that I really hated and finish it well: I love language as is regardless of what it is really saying: this is my consolation at the moment, until I am able to truly merge language with content that is relevant to the ideas that excite me.

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Filed under Arts, Literature