Sketching

Coming Back to the Road

I’ve been blogging for about half a year. By no means it is long enough to say I am an expert or anything, but I have felt comfortable with my own writing routines. Or it seemed so a couple of weeks ago.

I spent last two weeks away from the blogosphere revising my aims and goals, and it made me lose connection with the writing habit that I considered to be pretty solid. It feels as if I was going along a road that I knew would bring me somewhere, but then I stepped aside, just for a moment, and sat down on the grass and looked up at the sky, at white clouds slowly float above. And when it’s time to get back to the road I am not so sure anymore if the path that seemed to be mine is really mine. I don’t know if I have chosen the right direction or if I actually want to go anywhere.

I kept asking myself whether I should blog if I am not sure why I am doing it.

Today I got up at six in the morning. I had no reason to do so, but I woke up with a sudden wish to jot something down. Does it mean that I have been missing writing all this time and that I need to take to it again? Probably yes. In the end, it doesn’t really matter if I know where the road goes. It goes somewhere, and, while I enjoy walking, why not pace along?

There were several times in my life when I felt an unexplained urge to do something new. I never questioned it, I just followed it. And years later, when looking back, I can see surprisingly pleasant results those initial impulses brought me to, although then, in the very beginning, I had no idea of what would await me ahead.

I guess it’s the same with blogging or writing in general. I don’t know where it will bring me. But I can go on and see what happens. When something pushes you from inside you should give in to that urge even if you can’t decipher the message of your inner self yet.

It is so easy to shut down and lose the habit of expressing yourself, especially after a couple of discouraging remarks from people who judge you by your words. But the truth is you don’t write for anyone else. You write because you want to say something out loud, to let go of the ideas and feelings that boil up in your head; otherwise they will have to steam out through your ears and nostrils or run out as tears through your eyes.

Come back to posting your tiny little thoughts, I say to myself. You need it, so just do it. As simple as that. Keep telling what wants to be told. And even if your way of expressing yourself is awkward and full of silly mistakes you still have the right to speak. While speaking aloud, you learn to free your heart and be who you are.

Sketching

No Time To Think

centipede

Life is too short to think too much.

When I start thinking about something too seriously I stop acting. I become an alive illustration of an old story about the centipede that decided to figure out which of his legs should go first, and after that he couldn’t make a step. My portrait exactly. When I plan something too carefully I get paralyzed by the amount of details I have to work through and by fear to make an unforgivable mistake. So I don’t move at all.

Knowing that about myself, I try not to overthink things but act right away. Plunge in and see what happens. It probably won’t work for everyone, but I have to adopt this motto. If not, my short life will end up in infinite hesitation and pondering, “Which way is it better to do?”

The Daily Post

Sketching

My Two Cents

Today is Blog Action Day and everyone discusses inequality. I guess I can add my two cents.

I believe we all are not equal to each other. And I’m not only talking about social differences like economical status of your family or your race, ethnicity, religion, gender etc. These characteristics are obvious, but to me, they don’t really matter because they don’t describe a person behind all those social labels. I truly don’t care about them, but I believe in inequality although I see it from a different perspective.

Inequality makes life interesting. We are not equal. And when I say that I mean we all, from the very beginning of our lives, are given different abilities. Some of us are extremely talented in mathematics while others are totally hopeless in adding three to one. Some are born athletes and others can’t grab a ping-pong racket properly. Some paint from childhood and grow up into great artists and others never learn how to draw a simple line. We are not equal. But is it bad? Not at all.

Inequality makes us different, and this is a wonderful thing. If we all were the same, if we looked the same physically and had the same pack of skills we would want to do the same, we would have one profession for all of us and we all would have to live the same life. It’s hard to imagine a society made of mathematicians or athletes only, but that’s how it would be. We would be a planet of multiple and extremely boring twins. Who needs that? Nobody. Such a monolithic society would never survive.

Inequality has another side that’s called uniqueness. If you are not able to do something that others do so easily and you envy them day and night it still doesn’t mean you are worse than those ‘lucky’ ones. It just means you have your talent hidden in another place. And if you cling to the idea that you are not equal to those who can do something you can’t you will never give yourself a chance to find out what makes you different, what makes you unique and special.

So I would say don’t care about being similar or equal to somebody else in anything, from social status to everyday habits. Find what is unique about you, what you have that nobody else has, and your inequality to others won’t ever bother you at all.

 

The Daily Post

Sketching

Dramatic Inspiration

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When your eyes are open everything can be inspiring. Yesterday I looked up at the sky and saw this. Isn’t it a Beethoven’s symphony, a burst of colorful passion spilling over an evening city, threatening and blessing at once? Don’t you hear the music?

No need to go far for inspiration. It’s always right in front of you. Look around, and you won’t miss it.

 

Sharing my “Oooh!” with Dream, Play, Write!
Click on the picture if you want to see it full size.

Sketching

The Stories the Waves Can Tell

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I sit on the sand and look at the ocean waves. I like their repetitive patterns. I like their loud breathing and noisy manner to collapse their exhausted bodies that crossed the whole world to arrive from another continent’s shore. If you live next to the ocean the waves’ singing can be your friend and your lullaby as their rhythmic uproar is soothing and reassuring. Everything comes, everything goes, and everything comes again.

Every wave greets the beach licking it like a newly adopted puppy dog, and the sand greedily sucks in the rests of the ocean’s salty saliva. “We met, and now it’s time to say goodbye, we’re going back. Someone is waiting for us on the other side.”

“Who can be better than me?” the sand seems to ask. “What can be softer than my tender hug? There are rocks on the other side that cut you in half and laugh at your breaking into a thousand tiny tears. Why do you keep returning to someone who you know will hurt you?”

“They don’t laugh, those rocks, they cry. And they need us the same way you do. That’s why we come back to them as we come back to you.”

I sit on the sand with my eyes closed. There are so many stories the waves can tell you if you listen to their wordless tune.

Sketching

Cloudy Lemons

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I’ve learned not to panic when something goes wrong. It wasn’t an easy thing for me to do as I’m pretty impatient and when I want something I want it right now or even sooner. But my life proved that sometimes when you really, really want something now, right away, immediately it stands on your way to much bigger happiness later.

It’s not possible to see a bigger picture from the point you are standing at. And it’s not easy to believe that there is a bigger picture especially when you are eaten alive by your covetous wish or you suffer from loss, or fear or whatever the lemon’s corrosive acid is doing to you. But whenever you look back you see this bigger picture, and you are glad that there was something that barricaded your way and prevented you from achieving a momentary goal for it saved you from a worse pain. At least, that’s my story.

It’s a cliché that every cloud has a silver lining, but it is a cliché for a reason, and it is true. It’s not easy to take every mishap of yours as a lesson or a step to the future, but realizing that all clouds will eventually go by not being able to hide the sun for long time is the only way to overcome your sorrows and make lemonade from those damn lemons that grow at every corner of our life.

 

The Daily Post

Flash-fiction

The Doubtful Invention

My friend, a scientist who is always full of crazy ideas, rushed through my door.

“My new invention will change the world!” He cried and fell on the couch exhausted by his own excitement. “Look,” he handed me a tiny metal rectangular.

“What is it?” I suspiciously twirled it.

“It’s a chip of supersensitivity. If you place it inside of your head right behind the ear you will always hear thoughts of those who come by. Always!” He shook his hands above his head.

“Seriously? That’s really great!” I finally could say it to my friend after many years of fruitless and catastrophically ridiculous inventions.

“I added a glorious page to history!“ His eyes shined with pride and happiness. “Just imagine what revolution it will cause, what change of life! No more lies, no more secrets. Everyone knows everything about each other. The world will be clean and transparent like a spring morning in high mountains!”

“You’re a poet, my friend!” I exclaimed sharing his enthusiasm as I thought that before everyone gets the chip the lucky first ones will be able to eavesdrop bank account passwords and become surprisingly rich. “So, how does this thing work?”

“It’s very easy.” The professor was eager to explain me. “I can’t believe I could not think of it earlier! After a very simple neurosurgical procedure, not longer than half an hour, you will hear the whole world!”

“Have you installed the chip yourself?”

“Me, no.” The professor shook his head. “I can’t. Other people’s thinking distracts me and I can’t concentrate on my work.”

“But can’t you switch it off when you want or at least reduce the sensitivity level?”

“No, maybe in later models. This one doesn’t have this function.”

“But can you take it out at least?”

“No, once the chip is installed it has to stay in your head forever or it’ll cause permanent brain damage. The side effects are not under control yet, you understand this is a very new product, revolutionary product. And I’m the inventor!”

“But you said it’s a simple procedure.”

“Yes, it is simple, it’s just irreversible.”

“Hmm.” I walked back and forth along the room. The idea of knowing all the bank numbers still seemed alluring, but I had my doubts. I will always hear all the thoughts of Mrs. Hade who spreads dirty gossips about everyone in the neighborhood. I will hear rambling chaos of Mr. Jackson’s dementia when his daughter walks him out. I will hear her constant inner cry about the hopeless loneliness of her life. Of course, I will witness happy thoughts of a couple that just fell in love or a child’s joyful splash, but I won’t be able to avoid anyone’s fears, worries, angers not sharing them on my way.

“You know,” I said to the professor, “people think way too much. I won’t put your chip in my head, even for all bank accounts in the world.”

“What bank accounts?” Now I knew for sure that the professor didn’t install the chip himself. “You need to continue to work on this project. But until you control the sensitivity level and the chip can be switched off, there’s no use of it.”

I was sorry to see the professor’s enthusiasm to fade out. But nobody wants to hear somebody’s crappy thoughts. We all have our own ones.

 

The Daily Post