Insights

The trap of perfection in writing

I often ponder upon the nature of my relationship with the audience.

Mostly when I think of what to present today in these daily blogs.

Most of the time, when I am stuck, it is because I want to be seen in a certain way.

I think about how these writings would reflect on me.

What would it feel like to revisit my blogs sometime in the future?

Does my writing make any sense?

It’s all wrong. A trap of perfection.

I don’t run out of ideas, I run out of reasons to find a reason to be sure that the idea is perfect.

An idea is like a cloud in the sky.

Constantly changing its shape and its nature of existence.

A photograph of the cloud is not the cloud.

It is just a note that once it looked like seen in the picture.

Today it is different. It does not even exist today in the same form.

Today it might have poured somewhere deep in the valley. Becoming a river that meets the vast abundant ocean.

What was that again? A cloud!

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Death is absolute, and I am not dead yet.

So I evaporate, evolve.

So the consciousness flows like the river that meets the vast empty supercounsiousness.

The quest of inking something perfect is a hindrance to writing every day.

And so I write every day. To destroy those blocks.

To open the gates and let it all flood out, to make space for the new.

The purpose is not to be perfect, the purpose is to flow.

The purpose is not to present everything that I am in one word.

But to share an insight and connect through this medium of communication.

The purpose is to communicate.

What stands between me and the expression is me.

I am not perfect, and that is not the goal of my life.

But the goal is to be able to say without the veil of conditioning.

To dare to contradict myself. Like the cloud contradicted itself to be the ocean.

Life happened to it and it changed.

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But some things have always remained unfamiliar to me.

It is written in the books that you have to add value to grow in the field of publishing.

Give people what they want and you will get what you want.

I find it transactional.

Has the world become so stiff that it barely recognises the value of someone’s being?

Has it lost the lustre of appreciating beauty for what it is? Mere Beauty.

Has the world lost the art of personal connection and comradery?

OR, I am yet to find my people?

All I want is to materialise the connection I have with the universe.

Manifest the everyoneness.

The unknown within that speaks with the thousand faces is not my alone.

It is wanted and asked from me, in the form of an urge to create something every day.

If you are reading this, you asked for this.

What I type every day on the keyboard, is to honour the urge from within and without.

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Now the question lingers, can you reach someone without giving anything?

To be frank I don’t have any product to offer.

Nor do I write a listicle, “Do these 10 things and achieve this in life”.

I have a spiritual approach to life. I don’t reject and I don’t affirm.

I don’t have a sense of being in the body either. But the fact cannot be denied that I have a body.

And the body has needs.

So how to bank on something non-tangible, so that tangible in existence can benefit and survive?

I spoke about this matter to many people.

Many of them were friends and many pros in the world of online writing and publishing.

I sharpened my pen by learning from many books and video courses.

However, the content was not easy to come up with.

Everything I saw as success, I saw it fitting in a frame.

Niche is kept alive for gurus to devour it.

Like a recipe for success.

I tried it for a while, to write the content that is already doing well.

It felt like fucking without emotions.

There had to be some solution. A middle ground where I meet my audience.

Giving everything I have, without losing myself.

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It took me long. But I woke up to blossom.

It was a courageous step to write about nothing in particular.

A reconciliation.

There are people out there who write because they have something to say. I like them.

And some people pour out because they cannot contain the contentment anymore. I love them.

Everything that comes into existence, has a role to play. It has a place in this world.

And so what I wrote and will write has an audience somewhere.

All need is to express and let the expression have its own life.

It’s not only me who is looking for the audience, the audience is also looking for the creation.

No matter how hard I try to force this process, things take time.

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I have paid with the time to understand this.

It might have been easy for many people, to start writing as if they already know what they are going to write.

It was not a journey of accumulation, but letting things fall off while I waited to be empty.

Exhaustion brought me to the point where I could start something new.

A journey that I have started from where the road ends.

Not that it is difficult or demanding.

Rather it is a ticket to be yourself and no matter where you go it feels like writing.

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This writing is not about me, even if I write about me.

The blogs before were not about me, yet in a way they are about me.

Every word that is been counted in the article is for someone to relate to.

And that someone happens to include me.

I owe this more than I own this.

To someone who needs to know that it is okay not to have a niche.

That it is okay for your writing to be a flow of your life.

Like the garden has many flowers, so do your writing days.

Some day you will kiss the softness of the rose something stumble upon a thorn.

It’s not what you write make it your writing, but how you do it.

Your way is the only way and walking on your way is the middle way.

To meet you people retaining yourself enough that they recognise you for what you are.

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You will change, and so will your writing and your audience.

This invitation to change is to change together when you post your work online.

If you are hesitating the press the publish button, remind yourself, that there is someone somewhere waiting to read what you have to say.

It is not the writing on the stone, and you as a whole.

Just a piece of you and a scribble on the paper, that hold significance in the grand scheme of things.

Writing is a mental walk, reading is the same too.

For the right moment and at the right time. Momentarily

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