I haven’t written anything in a long while apart from the sporadic poetry. Oftentimes, I would set out to write but I would find myself wanting of a topic. And even when a topic comes to mind, whenever I begin to spin it into words, I would find the words trite and I would discard what I have written.
I logged into my old WordPress blog and read some of the entries. I wrote about a lot of things… about what I learned, about what I felt, about what I experienced. Could it be, that in the present, I am learning less, feeling less, experiencing less, thus the diminished impetus to write?
Or could it be that I am simply distracted? By technology, for instance. When an idea comes, instead of allowing it to flourish, I would truncate it into a mere 140 characters or so because something else has caught my attention.
Rilke advised that the aspiring writer should ask himself if he must write. Must I write? I think I found the answer in a poem by Charles Bukowski that I stumbled upon recently. Here’s an excerpt:
if it doesn’t come bursting out of you
in spite of everything,
don’t do it.
unless it comes unasked out of your
heart and your mind and your mouth
and your gut,
don’t do it.
Bukowksi then summed it beautifully:
when it is truly time,
and if you have been chosen,
it will do it by
itself and it will keep on doing it
until you die or it dies in you.
there is no other way.
and there never was.