Writers Remorse

           I had the strangest sensation tonight…. Have you ever had writers remorse? I wrote some angry poetry today. Perhaps poetry that, looking back now, was a little harsh and entirely blown out of proportion. But in the moment, as I was writing it, I felt like it was completely justified. Now, as I sit and read back the words, I feel a sense of complete maliciousness, like I was too hard on the page, too silently angry and uncharacteristically cruel for writing so monstrously against parchment that could not defend itself. And to top it all off, since I chose to write instead of verbally articulate, I'm left with no way to apologize for it. With no one to own up to, and no one truly to "confess" to, I found myself bound to my own frustration with my unbridled anger and no release for it. It was all done on paper, in pen, forever dictated. I can’t forget it, nor are they words that slip out of my mouth and into the minutes and sounds of the day, easily to be forgotten and estranged from my thinking and conscious. They are ingrained into the paper, and I feel guilty because I felt angry enough to give them an inked permanence. 

        That’s the funny thing about writing; the double sided sword. You can’t take back written words. You can get rid of the paper, burn it, throw it in the ocean. But those words will be there still. You can’t apologize to them or ask for forgiveness. They can’t accept an apology. Writing is a serious commitment and you have to be okay with what you write.  You have to be okay with looking at your paper like it was a mirror, and seeing the worst and best sides looking back at you. And not only this, but you have to come to terms with the image you see when you don't like it and know that it's truly a reflection of the time from start to paper, to end of paper and there is no taking that back. 

          Do I really believe in "writers remorse?" No. I've learned for the most part that we are what we are, we feel what we feel, and we write what we write. We are allowed to write irrationally, bitterly, and furiously. It's part of the system of thinking, writing and reflecting. I guess I believe everything you construe on paper is done so for a reason. And even beauty can come from darkness and that is something we not only need to be in touch with, but learn to coexist with. You have to accept all the light and dark that is emitted from your writing and accept that sometimes it needs to be there. Such is life I suppose, it's vital to our mere existence just as much as it is our creative presence. You have to deal with whatever you felt in the moment you chose to write, good or bad. It’s funny, this writing business. It's really odd. Writing about someone in such a way that they will never be able to accept the apology you can’t give them. The paper and the person will never receive it, and that pains me a little. Beautiful words, but hurtful words. I surprise myself sometimes. 

                                                    Writers remorse. Strange indeed.

Celebrate.

            Writers block is a funny concept to me.... I was just sitting in front of my computer wondering how on earth it's possible to have so much going on around you and inside your own mind but have NOTHING to put on paper.  I love writing.  I love everything about words, and feelings, and thoughts and intertwining them in an eloquent (and more often than not) erratic fashion.  But sometimes, I find myself completely unable to produce the slightest bit of scribed insight even in the midst of serious inspiration.  It's worse than any teenage angst, sexual frustration or birthday countdown.  This inability to articulate feelings into words ranks upwards as my most loathed feeling of tension and pinnacle of absolute frustration.
           Interestingly enough, sitting here in a creative funk forced me to ask myself, "why do I even write?  What is the point of writing?"  After a lot of internal debate and an almost existential crisis, I realized the reason for writing is way simpler than I thought.  No profound reason, or savvy, insightful explanation.

I write to celebrate.  

I know that sounds weird, but its irrevocably true.  Even if I write about something sad, or disheartening, I find that writing is my way of celebrating my new or sudden organizing of thoughts, acceptance of facts or understanding of something.  Writing is cool like that.  It's a declaration of feelings and thoughts and proof of our right to think what we want and put it out into the world.  And the best part is no one can write exactly like you, or me, or your mom, or your sister.  We are granted at birth this incredible right to express and celebrate however we see fit.  Writing is often the way I see fit.  Sometimes I find myself losing track of my original intent for writing and find myself instead trying to fulfill some unspoken need to make a point on something.  But I remembered, the reason I write isn't to always make a point, but to help absorb the moments that are worth writing about. Sitting here made me remember that 

I don't always need a motive to write. 

           Sure, I usually utilize writing as an avenue to work out my opinion on something or as a place to reach out to others, but I started out writing simply to reflect on what was around me; to remember happenings and to just

celebrate.

         It feels pretty good to celebrate.  To throw yourself a mental party, to take an emotional or intellectual vacation. It just feels incredible to mindlessly bask in the surroundings that make life unconsciously spectacular and unique to us. I forgot how utterly delightful it is to just celebrate yourself and to celebrate what is around you.  

        For example, I sat in a coffee shop around the corner from my house on earth day and felt this growing exuberance as the rain pelted the window I was next to. This is because with this monsoon came warm sunshine directly following it. I took a hiatus from my usual disgruntlement with the Oregon weather and relished in it instead.  How lucky are we to have rain to wash away the clogs in our minds from stress, anger, frustration and then receive the luxury of warmth and light to restore our joy and lighten our moods within seconds after?  I was able to look past the inconvenience of the hot and cold weather and see it more as a gift.  This made the rain seem kinder, and not so menacing. This made the sun seem brighter, and wiser, and compassionate. This usual mood dampener of weather bipolarity suddenly appeared so much differently to me.  I saw it as a sign of love and endearment from our earth to us, her way of taking care of us and reminding us she is here.  I put down my book and couldn't help but wonder if the kids fleeing the downpour would have the chance to see the rain as a chance to cleanse, and rinse them selves of heaviness and burden.  I willed them to see this the way I did.  I hoped from the deepest parts of myself that those around me or those rushing to get out of the rain or those cursing at the sun for its unexpected appearance would get the chance to celebrate instead.  I sipped my coffee.  A weight had been lifted. 

            It's not just weather either.  It's everything. There is so much capacity for celebration in the world. It's seeing old people hold hands.  It's getting coffee that doesn't taste burned.  It's finding a new band. It's the smile and wave you receive from a driver telling you it's safe to cross. It's especially finishing a book, even when it hurts a little.  Even when that end feels like the departure of a friend, a loss of a loved one, or an unexpected end to a wonderful relationship.  It's staggering how powerful words are. And the way I see it, there is celebration to be had in the mere feeling.  We are so lucky to be entitled to feel so strongly.  We are so lucky to be able to cry, to laugh, to cheer, to smile, to yell.  We are so lucky to feel love for things, people, words, art, etc.  We are even lucky in our ability to come in contact with the dark feelings.  We are lucky to be capable of feeling passion, to experience hatred, to grieve. Because these are indications we are human, and we are alive, and we are vibrant.  How cool is that?  

          

          And not only this, but we have inalienable access to OTHER people.  I made it a point to smile and make eye contact with every person who I passed by on my way to class at the beginning of the week.  I took a break from the consuming abyss that is my phone, and instead chose to celebrate each person who I came in proximity with, doing this with just a smile and a hint of human-to-human contact.  This celebration came from no reason other than they were walking, rolling or skating by me and that meant they were here. They were studying for midterms, applying for scholarships, rushing from work to class and their existence deserved some positive acknowledgement. Coexisting in the same city as me, in the same state, in the same country. We are all humans and we are doing great!  

          Plus, celebration is the best adrenaline rush.  It fills you with positive vibes that in turn, lead to courage and confidence.  You know, it's pretty astonishing to realize that there is potential in every person you pass.  It's pretty radical that in every shoulder you brush against, in every "excuse me", "are you using this chair" or "would you like a receipt" there is potential for blooming friendships, connections, relationships.  It is even MORE radical to think that the only barrier keeping you from planting these seeds, and spreading your own warmth and value is yourself.  YOU are entirely in charge of how many people you surround yourself with as well as the circumstances in which you find yourself meeting new people, and spreading the celebration that is you in the act of interacting fearlessly with others. Life is pretty freeing when you use that approach and you will find celebrations a natural occurrence.  If you try it, I guarantee you will feel lighter, relieved of the barriers you put around yourself and emancipated from the belief that we are meant to celebrate by ourselves only.  Celebration is best done with others. 

       Ultimately, I guess writing for me is sort of driven by reason or a point.  But it feels good to center writing around no serious stance, no monumental stream of thinking or point.  It feels good to reflect and bring back the serious happiness I get from writing just to write. It feels good to have the reason appear after I have written than to develop writing around a reason. Remembering to celebrate is important you know?  It keeps us sane and counteracts ominous forces of occasional overwhelming and harsh realities.  I urge you to

Celebrate.

Life is reason enough.