When I was a high schooler, I was shackled by the fetters of preordained forms or the tyranny of literary expectation. The realm of written expression is nebulous enough as it is. So, to force my personal thoughts to fit within simplistic cookie-cutter molds seemed a major disservice to both myself as the writer and to the reader.
By letting my words speak for themselves, I’m allowing my thoughts and emotions to transcend conventional structures and find their own forms through their marriage to the words. For me, the pen is no longer a mere instrument of communication; rather, with great practice and skill, it becomes a wand of transmutation. The craft of writing becomes more akin to alchemy, transmuting raw commonplace elements of thought and emotion into dazzling spectacles of literary gold.
Our world requires a renaissance of the soul, an emancipation of our creative spirit, and a revolution in the way we perceive the written word. Too many writers remain confined to the limits of established forms, when the possibilities truly stretch out into the infinite when we allow our language to be unbound. Good writing is that which can ride the thermals of change and uncertainty, free to explore the vast expanse of possibility.
Free to pursue a brand new chapter in my life in my mid-thirties, a spiritual metamorphosis has set me adrift on a voyage towards uncharted territories, new lands where the tempestuous winds of inspiration blow with wild abandon.Yet, even given opportunities beyond my wildest dreams of free expression and exploration of my imagination, it took me the better part of three years to recognize what I was missing all along in the practice of my art.
No longer do I fret about the future shapes that my writing might take, nor do I adhere to the rigid boundaries set by literary norms. Now as I navigate the swirling eddies of the creative ether, I find myself in a state of blissful communion with the muses, the enigmatic entities that whisper the secrets of artistic expression into the receptive ears of the willing. My newfound freedom has opened the door to a symphony of ideas, accompanied by a chorus of voices that echo through the chambers of my mind, imploring me to give them life on the page.
Recently, my writing has taken on a life of its own, each new essay an ever-evolving entity writhing with the vitality of a living organism. Each word, each phrase, and each sentence, coalesces into an organic whole. As I continue my odyssey of literary creation, it’s the process of discovery, surrendering to the ineffable beauty of the unknown, that truly sets my spirit free.
So, in every day that follows, with each stroke of my pen, I celebrate the art of writing. Rather than remain concerned with the future forms it might take, I instead embrace the sublime mystery of creation itself. In the act of writing I find my truest expression, my most authentic self, and my ultimate liberation. After all, in the boundless cosmos of creativity, where the ink of imagination swirls and dances in celestial splendor, I myself am but a humble voyager.
