When I sit down at my computer, I often find myself frustrated that nothing is coming out right. My ideas often feel like they are being squeezed through impossibly small-minded filters, which clog the creative process.
Sometimes I feel as if what I am typing is an interpretation of what I really want to say; as if the perfectionist in me seeks to edit and polish everything I say and do to an impossible and acceptable standard. My inner critic often overshadows what it is I sat down to write. It’s frustrating.
I dare say that this frustration translates to more than just writing, and for that matter, to more than just myself. Potential accomplishments often sit patiently in metaphorical memory of ‘what used to be, what could have been, what should have been said and done’ – an overflowing hard drive – waiting to be revisited, so that its contents might be either brought to life or dumped altogether.
For some reason, revisiting doubt is easier than truth. I have a secret weapon for overcoming the hypnotic pull of doubt.
Let the overflow of confusion drown you. Flow inevitably returns when we relinquish control. The vast sea of desire, wherein the ubiquitous and emotional inconsistencies of day-to-day existence toss and turn us can make us feel out of control, fearful and full of doubt. These things scatter our focus. What resets our barometers is the simple, brilliant and forgotten truth of experience, which allows us to set our course and go.
I meditate daily on the peaceful feeling that allows my thoughts and feelings to flow unencumbered by desire, filters or doubt. I am quite ruthless when it comes to letting go of anything superfluous to the truth of experience.
So, to all you writers, try not to think too much. Humbly tell your inner critic to be silent for a time, and let the roots of your calling bore downward and upward, to the surface of your being. Let your fingers fly over the keys, or your pen to dance on the blank canvas of your mind. Do not worry if it looks like a chicken came and visited. Perfection is only a platonic idea, and the mind a mere tool. You are the mechanic. What comes out of you is good enough by virtue of its existence.
Happy writing my friends.
Photo Credits
Photo from the Microsoft Clip Art Collection
It only took me nine years to respond, and even though it is 10:25pm, apparently, I am posting at 1:24 am.
Thank you Chris 🙂
That’s a sweet piece Mary. Thanks.