2 September 2010

Notes from underground

I am continuously faced with the difficulty of negotiating my spaces of existence. It is becoming harder and harder to find the emotional space to write, not to talk about the actual physical time and space. I find myself increasingly sitting at the computer screen into the small hours of the night, at times even greeting dawn, as I sit here with my coffee (trying to replace it with ginger tea, but it's not really working), cigarettes and two dogs.

Sometimes I reach the breaking point. Sometimes I want to give up. The effort to find the space and time - to clear all the clutter of the day from my mind - becomes an unbearable task. But something deep inside me keeps tugging at me. Keeps telling me that I need to do this. I need to write. To me, writing is like breathing. I imagine sometimes breathing as painful - but there is no other option. I have to keep breathing even if it causes agonizing pain.

Lately, I received some very heartwarming personal emails from some of you. Some even from people I don't know. I just want to tell you that your emails - maybe you didn't think of them like that - are lifesaving to me. They join the other life-lines I hang on to. I don't know what you think of my person, maybe you think I have all the confidence in the world and that words come easily to me. Well, writing is a struggle. It's an amalgamation of agony and ecstasy. But confidence? That's also a problematic word. Sometimes I believe. Sometimes I waver and am uncertain. Sometimes I have faith in my own abilities - but more importantly in my mission. Other times I feel frustration and don't see any progress. But with all this - it has never crossed my mind to abandon my goal.

But I think that a major cause for my frustration is actually not directly connected with writing itself. It's connected with being unable to find that silent, free space: mental, emotional and physical. The small tasks of life are so demanding, sometimes not leaving us time even for a hug. But I make an extra effort. Sometimes I give up another hour of sleep, pass a good read, or skip a nice relaxation. At the end, it's a matter of choice.

What's the point in writing this post? I think it has served its point!
Good night all and see you around the corner, khulud.

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