Tuesday, October 30, 2012

For This Knowing and Flowing...

Sometimes you just know... And then it doesn't even seem scary. Just certain and joyful. Like a deep stream, flowing steady and strong, jumping and splashing and churning as it passes around and over the land in which it is grounded. And for this knowing, and flowing, I am grateful. ― Vashti Lsc

Enlightenment. That's what it's called. That moment when you just...know.
I had one of those moments this morning when I stumbled on the above quote on an online site.
Lately, to tread through my brain has been like Dorothy and the gang in The Wizard of Oz---scary, dark, doubtful, angry, confusing.
Insecure about my writing (what else is new?)---I can't write as fast as that person---I'm not well known---why can't I write as well that person?---oh, this book is so horrible, and I had loved it so when I started writing---these characters suck!---the plot? what plot? you know I can't plot! My story is boring!---I need more angst---but, wait, you can't do angst, remember, you suck at that, too! OMG, what CAN I do?---oh, why don't you just give up!---you just ain't got it.
Oh, dear, and then there's the daily swimming in the stream of the writing social world. I just can't fit in---do I NEED to fit in order to be a successful writer?---will I ever be as popular as THAT author?---hell, no, you won't be as popular!---that person doesn't like me!---what can I do to make them like me?---wait a minute, why don't they like me?.
Hell's bells, it almost makes me dizzy just thinking about it. All that doubt. Angst. Insecurity. Comparing myself to other authors. Stressing about my social status. Stressing about everything. Negativity.
All that energy spent on everything except...writing.
Something about the above quote hit me. An Ahhhhh moment. Something about this knowing, and flowing.
Knowing what? Knowing me. Not just looking AT me, but looking IN me. Just..knowing. Knowing is peace. Acceptance. A sigh. A smile. A heart about to explode because it suddenly just got it...I'm just fine, just like I am.
With the knowing DOES come the flowing. This beautiful, natural, just-as-it-is-meant-to-be flowing.
Suddenly, when allowing yourself to just BE, the freedom to write, to love YOUR writing, descends on you and your thoughts flow.
With all this enlightenment also comes a certain peace, making the need to fit in with the crowd seem unimportant. A wonderful calm, realizing I am fine just as I am, and those who want to know me will know me. Those who don't...won't. And I'll be fine with that.
That realization, too, somehow opens the floodgates of the creative process. Funny how worrying about belonging to this group or that group can impede one's artistic growth. But it does.
Oh, I'm not saying I don't want to socialize, that I don't want and need friends. Of course I do. But there's a beauty, a lovely freedom, in embracing yourself and allowing yourself some solitude. Like that flowing brook, all right and happy and serene.
Tomorrow, who knows? I may be back on the banks of Angst River. But for now, for this moment, I am swimming in that happy, restful stream.


Karenna Colcroft said...

Thanks for sharing this, Vastine. Being a published author isn't as easy as we might hope; there's so much else besides the writing that goes into it. But we have to be ourselves through all of it, and be true to whoever "ourselves" might be regardless of what others might think.

Julie Lynn Hayes said...

Vastine, you are more than just fine, lady, you are great. I know it isn't easy not to think otherwise. I've felt everything you described, as if you could read my mind. Just don't worry about the ones that don't get you, and know the ones who do love you. Thanks for a very introspective blog.

AlanChinWriter said...

Yes, with knowing comes peace. With peace comes flowing. Nice post, Carol.

Joylene Nowell Butler said...

I don't know what to add. I feel the way you describe, but less than I used to. Wow, that just occurred to me. Haha, now I'm destined to spend the rest of the day wondering why. I better get to work instead. It probably has something to do with age. I don't much care what others think anymore.

I'm thinking of you, wishing I could add this thought to your brain so it would remain there permanently: Your writing is so fabulous, so tender, so moving, that I generally in tears by the end of my read.

Nikolaos said...

We are our own worst critics. Our inner critic never lets up: I'm no good; I'm ugly; ppl won't read my stuff; I write rubbish; my mother was a hamster; and so on.

I find that actually writing silences my inner critic. In fact my inner enthusiast appears, rather shyly, and says, hey, that's not too bad, that. And my inner critic sulks.

Lisa Magoch Johnson said...

I had a similar "aha" moment this morning. I realized what I have been doing wrong. It became even funnier when I clicked on a website for another reason and found my thoughts confirmed.