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Archive for September, 2012

There are some days, amongst the mundane and mediocre, where the world seems impossibly vast, so large and comprehensive that you could never fathom to discover all of its mysteries. There are other days however, where the world is so small you can feel its walls surrounding you. You realize that you have nowhere to go, that the earth itself is but a part of an even vaster universe that expands towards the edge of some unknown event horizon.

On these days, you stay indoors, shut the blinds tight and hold onto whatever dreams you’ve manage to save for a rainy day. Not realizing that it’s on those days, when the sky seems to bear down above you, when the earth is but a pinprick in the vast nothingness of space, that this seemingly insignificant world is at your doorstep, and all you have to do to discover it is take a single step out the door.

It’s amazing how significant a spec of stardust can be.

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The trouble with dreamcatchers is that they filter out nightmares, leaving you to create your own.

image by gretchen-lynne on deviantart

Recently I’ve been noticing that I’m away from my keyboard far more than I should be, but it’s not necessarily because of my busy schedule. I’ve broken my writing regiment due to stunted self-expression and a lack of focus that has crept up on me as the summer dwindles down. I was thinking about why I started this blog, remembering that it wasn’t only to better myself as I writer but also to better understand myself as I writer. Every now and then I need to step back and acknowledge what progress, if any, I’ve managed to make.

That means the progress I’ve made with my novel, the countless discoveries about my writing habits and style, and coming to terms, if only a little, with my own capabilities and shortcomings. That also means being able to hear what I’m unconsciously telling myself when I simply turn away from my writing desk. My mind is fickle, my attention easily distracted, but I think it’s the realization that the more headway I make towards achieving my goals, the more real the ideas of success and failure become. Failure in small things, in the trivial matters of daily life, is ultimately nothing and can easily be shrugged off, left in the streets to be swept away with the dust. But true failure lies in the promises you’ve made deep within yourself, the ones you can never let go of, the ones that never let go of you.

These dreams are hard to come by, they masquerade as fleeting aspirations; a desire you don’t want to recognize, fearing that it might turn to smoke and slip through your fingers the minute you utter its name. A true dream is the source of your greatest happiness, but also of your greatest anxieties. You make yourself believe you’d rather live your life clinging to an unchanging ideal you may never achieve, rather than lose it to the kind of failure that reaches down inside and shatters everything you believe you are, everything you want to be. What greater risk is there than risking your own self-worth? I’d imagine being disappointed in yourself in that way wouldn’t be easy, or desirable. So how to you risk everything without risking anything at all? How do you follow your dreams without fearing you won’t live up to them?

Beats me.

I guess it’s not a question of living without fear, but finding a way to live with it.

image by freaKygilr1 on deviantart

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