Tag: Writing

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Anatomy and physiology of life

Spirit of the scenario.

“Drama is life with the dull bits cut out.”  ~ Alfred Hitchcock.
‘Drama’ is indeed derived from the Greek word for ‘Action.’  Drama in your story must be like your life, without the boring parts–for example, you are waiting for the bus, which is boring and has no point of tension, so in your work that part must be taken away and not showed at all, unless something of drama extremely conducive to the story is added.  Then, of course, the essence of drama is crisis; however, there is two kinds of crisis, “the hero crisis,” and “the natural crisis.”  The hero crisis is, for example, in “Mission Impossible” or “Batman,” where the hero has great abilities, sometimes fantastical and superhuman, something that you do not experience every day in your own life. The natural crisis, for example, in “Office space” or “Manchester by the sea,” where the main character or characters have really normal lives like you and me, but something happens in their normal lives which turns into drama and tension, maybe a bit of chaos and lessons from the story’s character development the audience can learn from.
So, when you are involved in your writing or somehow creative endeavor, remember that drama must keep some kind of tension to grab the audience’s attention, and this at all times; whether little tension or beastly tension, and whether a roller coaster of tension, drama is all tension, the action which absorbs the attention of the viewer or reader.  And I repeat the word ‘tension’ because this is a MUST DO in any creative endeavor.  Also, remember that you can pick between the two crisis to make tension fit in your story and genre; this reasonable and wise choice will make your story stand out and create reality, even if it is a fantastical story–i.e., reality is about how well the details and the carrying out of the story is evoked in the mind of the viewer.
A great formula for explosive drama is this one:  When it comes to the situations or the plot of the story surrounding the protagonist–  As the protagonist in your story, for example, becomes less active and more passive, less certain of his inner strength and positive purposes, so it is the ambitions, the behaviors, the wickedness and intentions of those who surround him who now have another characterization in your story.  The common compromise here is when the protagonist appears undecided and emotionally deterred for the first three quarters of the piece or art, but then that same protagonist is forced into a definitive commitment in the final quart, a positive action.  The protagonist goes through all this hardships and struggles within himself so he can learn strength and wisdom to conclude in a positive note–for example, one of my favorites, as in Rocky, where he is a nobody and really feels like a nobody, but at the end gets inner strength and great love to finalize as a champion off the hard streets.
But more complex and hard to understand for the ‘Unsophisticated audience’ is the drama where the completely passive, undecided and purposeless protagonist does not have any major change of heart.  There is always danger of this kind of story not being too popular for the masses; but, on the other hand, there is a depth here that the avant-garde types or more ‘Sophisticated audience’ will admire as true artistic innovation, mostly because it manages to avoid the obvious and delves into the deeper, emotional issues of the human being, as in “The mirror” (1975 Russian film) or “The seventh seal” (1957 film)–i.e., these films, are more philosophical in nature and try to delve into the experience of being human, the beliefs, the judgments, the essence of the mental and emotional conflict these movies, as well as books since it is about all stories in any art form, invite a lot of questions; they do not sermonize nor belittle any specific demographic but instead, it just state different opinions and let’s the audience discuss its deeper meaning and the meaning they will take away for themselves.
So whatever is your drama type, always remember tension and adapt the action to your story.

Drama is a word derived from the Greek word for 'Action._Whatever the plot or the genre is the tension must be continuous.

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The free mind of a human god!

Sage within.

“To enjoy good health, to bring true happiness to one’s family, to bring peace to all, one must first discipline and control one’s own mind.  If a man can control his mind he can find the way to Enlightenment, and all wisdom and virtue will naturally come to him.”  ~ Buddha; ascetic and sage, spiritual teacher.
“We are made wise not by the recollection of our past, but by the responsibility for our future.”  ~ George Bernard Shaw; Irish playwright, critic and polemicist.
     Most of us believe that our actions will make a dent in time and space for the creation of our path to better health, better economy, and better relationships overall; however, we often get so caught up and lost into the murky waters of our thoughts of anxiety and stress that we think that we are making the right choices and cementing a solid path to individual success and all bliss.  There is no solid path to bliss though, no direct path to what we deserve or want, but only the capacity to learn and discover wisdom within ourselves through all the rich experiences (some pleasant, some unpleasant) we live as human beings; hence, life is not bias or egotistical, life is pure and free-flowing, not tied to anything like we are tied to our views and opinions, to our intellect and knowledge of the world around us, so we must discover the truth to follow within ourselves and our hearts, and not follow the opinions and biased views of our own intellects.
     It happens all too often that we have a death in the family, go through bankruptcy, or through some other personal tragedy, so we build a wall around our hearts and we weaken the ability to all emotional intelligence and human connection while trying to protect us from the blow.  We feel miserable and treated unfairly even though we wear a smile on our face and go through life like everything is perfect, but inside there is always something which does not feel right and, perhaps, makes us feel inferior at something or broken or suspicious at others.
    Failure at creating rich value within ourselves, and thus keeping our feelings bottled up by not sharing and connecting with others, will rob us of the discovery of wisdom within ourselves to create all beauty and success in our life.  And true wisdom is not something you find in the experiences you live (although that seems to be the main consensus nowadays, among all the divorces and the wars and the corruption going on around us), but true wisdom to enrich your own life is found within yourself by stopping your ego (the everyday monkey mind that goes 100 mph within you) and absorbing the details of your outward experiences–i,e. being curious about your own life, as in:  Why did this happen right at the time it happened…??  What is the significance of the things I feel based on what happened…??  Why do I react the way I do to what is happening…??  Etc. etc.
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     We cannot expect to find wisdom out there, in our relationships, in our actions, and in all the events out there; but we must be diligent and curious about inquiring within our own selves at all times, which is when we find out that we are all we need to reach all success in life.  Once you discover this within yourself, than you accept yourself as you are and feel, and accept others as they are and feel as well, and you then reach true and immense wisdom which creates enormous value to connect with others and build bridges to all prosperity out into the world around you and far from all anxiety and stress brought by your intellect/ego.
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Poetry and prose from the heart.

The hidden substance of it all.

“I believe that imagination is stronger than knowledge.  That myth is more potent than history.  That dreams are more powerful than facts.  That hope always triumphs over experience.  That laughter is the only cure for grief.  And I believe that love is stronger than death.”  ~ Robert Fulghum; American author and Unitarian Universalist minister.

This is an excerpt from a book I am writing, titled: “Inner Wealth.  Outer Wealth.”  About wisdom to reach spiritual, emotional, mental, and all financial success.

 

Once,  eternally  before  and  beyond  all  recorded  history,  eternally  before  and  beyond  all  space  and  time,  there  was  one  unity,  one  power,  one  ALL,  one-ness;  and  so,  as  the  condition  was  one  and  the  experience  existing  was  one  with  this  condition,  the  potentialities  for  further  growth  were  rich  and  vast,  the  very  essence  of  all  beauty  and  design  flowed  freely.  This  substance  of  incredible  creativity  and  imagination  was  all,  and  beat  as  one  heart  which  was  all.  There  was  no  strain  and  no  limitations.  There  was  no  concepts  of  material  or  immaterial.  There  were  no  different  creations  as  we  now  know,  but  there  was  only  the  essence,  the  very  Thought  of  Creation.  The  Great  Mind  was  all.  The  Great  Mind  still  is  all.

     And  then,  in  this  Mind  which  was  all,  in  this  Thought   which  was  all,  experience  sizzled  in  itself  and  the  very  heart  for  beauty  and  life  could  not  burst  or  transcend  itself,  for  this  substance  of  beauty  and  life  was  itself  beauty  and  life  and  it  did  not  have  an  end  to  reach  out  and  bring  about  creation.  There  were  no  walls  to  break  down.  No  rules  to  break.  No  competition  for  the  development  of  ideas.  There  was  no  duality.  No  two  poles.  No  love  and  no  fear.  No  thought  and  emotion   as  we  know  and  experience  now.  But  imagination  and  its  potential  was  just  one  and  all  that  existed. 

     And  then  it  created  an  image  of  itself  within  itself,  it  unselfishly  craved  the  experience  of  itself  within  itself;  therefore,  space  and  time  appeared  like  a  magic  trick,  and  this  substance  divided  itself  within  itself  to  thus  create  another  substance  of  life,  of  dimensional  and  qualitative,  of  experimental  and  dual  existence.  From  the  corpuscle  it  began  work  throughout  billions  upon  billions  of  years.  From  the  micro-world  onto  the  macro-world.  And  the  creations  were  many  and  rich,  creative  and  destructive,  beautiful  and  ugly,  of  light  and  of  dark;  and,  so,  life  was  competition  now  because  it  was  dual—i.e.  two  poles,  two  opposites,  better  and  worse,  rich  and  poor,  God’s  Eternal  Mind  and  the  lower  beings’  mortal  minds.  But,  still,  imagination  maintained  existence,  the  very  essence  now  covered  in  matter,  now  covered  in  different  flesh  and  thought,  limited  by  flesh  and  thought,  and  expressing  itself  within  flesh  and  thought.

Hard  to  imagine  this  substance  we  now  call  imagination,  isn’t  it?  Back  then,  before  time  and  space  were  born,  this  entity  had  no  qualities  or  concepts  to  speak  of,  like  ‘genius,’  or  ‘prodigy,’  or  ‘gifted.’  Our  human  brains  use  images  and  concepts  to  experience  and  think  about  something  clearly,  so  if  there  are  no  images  and  no  exact  concepts  in  my  description,  then,  our  intellects  stress  over  it  and  might  even  deny  such  existence.  But  what  is  important  here  is  not  the  description  I  give,  but  the  very  essence  of  this  substance  is;  hence,  this  incredible  substance  is  our  flesh  and  thought,  it  still  exists  within  each  of  our  cells,  it  forms  our  consciousness,  it  sustains  our  body  and  mind  which  are  in  fact  the  substance’s  shell.

Always  remember  you  are  imagination  and  creativity,  the  building  substance  flows  within  your  cells  and  mind,  no  matter  who  your  thought  says  you  are,  the  education  your  mortal  mind  has,  or  the  age  your  body  reflects  in  the  mirror;  ergo,  as  you  experience  it  yourself,  you  only  have  to  bring  that  energy  or  marvelous  substance  out  and  use  it  to  create  in  the  material  world.  So,  create!

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“Everything  you  can  imagine  is  real.”  ~ Pablo  Picasso;  Spanish  painter,  sculptor,  print-maker,  ceramicist,  stage  designer,  poet  and  playwright.

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Categories
Anatomy and physiology of life

The dark cloud.

“What I try to do is write.  I may write for two weeks ‘the cat sat on the mat, that is that, not a rat.’  And it might be just the most boring and awful stuff.  But I try.  When I’m writing, I write.  And then it’s as if the muse is convinced that I’m serious and says, ‘Okay.  Okay. I’ll come.’”  — Maya Angelou; American poet, memoirist, and civil rights activist.

 

     “Writer’s block is a condition, primarily associated with writing, in which an author loses the ability to produce new work, or experiences a creative slowdown.  The condition ranges in difficulty from coming up with original ideas to being unable to produce a work for years.  Throughout history, writer’s block has been a documented problem.”  Jesus Christ!– They make it look like is some dying of brain cells or some serious and irreversible condition!  I have to say, when I read this in Wikipedia I couldn’t believe how much fuss they have made over it, and this is exactly why most people see writer’s block as a real condition, like having the flu, or a stomach virus, or, even worse, a serious breathing problem or some type of mental disease or even a cancer.  But, remember, what you think you become, and what you think constantly about your mind creates as reality.  Reality in your life is what your mind says it is, because as you think you start believing; hence, once you start believing something, the cellular make-up in your body produces the chemicals and the sensations your body and your mind design in you as what you call writer’s block.

As a really serious writer and deep thinker, this is a very important topic for me personally; because at some point in the beginning of my career I also thought (because of all the fuss they keep making about it) that I would suffer this from time to time, and I have walked out of my computer desk just because I thought writer’s block was something real and that I had to rest my brain for a few days to heal and be ready to welcome the muse again.  But, in reality, I discovered that it is just a trick of the mind, like the fear we may experience in life or the anxiety we create just by thinking about the things that can go wrong in our life.  Furthermore, it is the pride we feel in writing something superb and excellent from the first line, we want that feeling of knowing that the writing is great from the get-go, we want to know that we are great in the first stroke of the pen or key-stroke of the computer; hence, it is not a real condition of the mind but the fear and impatience of creating something marvelous in the first page.  And that makes it all kept under our control, and we do not have to walk out of the desk whenever we feel this, and even lose days without writing.

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So, it is worth noting that which is understood at this point, that the muse or essence/power of writing is not on waiting for something divine to present itself into our minds, but the key is to demand it passively because it is our right and gift as human beings, it is essentially creative energy in our consciousness (in the consciousness of the garbage man as in the consciousness of the professional writer; however, this creative energy is more pronounced in the writer due to the mental practice and the living we make out of using it every day). 

Now, as professional and serious writers we have to push through the lethargy and boredom of watching the blank page, just like the marathon runner which does have to actually start running to achieve his goals of competing in the marathon and accustom his muscles to be great at it, even though he might not feel the energy to run that particular morning.  It is all about starting, even though you might not have great thoughts to start writing, even though you might not have all the details of the character or the scenery in your mind’s eye, even thought you might not have a specific path for your story or character, even though you might not have an idea to create your character, and even though you might start writing uninteresting nonsense about your story, so I repeat, IT IS ALL IN STARTING SOMETHING, your job is to write, period, so write without excuses.

While you start your writing perhaps not very interestingly, it will develop itself, ideas will start coming to you because then your conscious energy will be attracted by your commitment and strength of will (the traits of the true leader); therefore, this energy or muse is yours for the taking, and if you do your part then it will follow your wishes to succeed in your writing venture.  You are the master and leader, the muse is your servant and follower; however, most writers think that they are the servants and followers of this so-called muse, just waiting for it to strike and make its appearance, just hoping to allure this substance of creativity by not chasing it and by praying that it comes on its own.

The muse or creative energy does not come to you from the conscious mind, even though we use the conscious to mold ideas and structure story plots; it comes from the subconscious, which is where imagination comes from, and we have heard many great artists say that they have gotten great ideas and art forms from their dreams and from taking nature walks–i. e. being one with this divine energy which belongs to each of us, but we need to embrace it and claim it if we are to use it to our own advantage.  But, as it is, the ego (the lazy, dual and all-confusing, monkey mind) lives in the conscious mind, and this ego we can experience it more when the mind tries to wait for a “stroke of genius” to come on its own, if you will; and so it is this ego-substance which tells us that we have writer’s block, and which tells us that we are not ready to write something creative and interesting, and which tells us that we cannot come up with anything to write about.

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To make it shorter, we can beat the ego by “taking the bull by the horns,” as they say, by being our own leader and demanding the right to creativity; this is done, in my own experience, by brainstorming on a piece of paper about characters, scenes, story plots, emotional and psychological content, story messages and impressions you want to express, whatever you want to write related to your story.  This is also done by writing whatever you have in mind at the moment, because, the more you stare to that blank page, the more confusion and fear of writing your ego will communicate to your mind and body.  Besides, remember, the real story-telling is not in the clarity and strength of your first draft, but it is in the editing; thus, the editing makes the story attractive because you are clearer in your vision, but for this clarity to come and appear you need a first draft (it does not matter what it looks like).

So, keep writing without being a perfectionist, which kills the art; see, true art is not about perfection, but true art is about human vulnerability and emotional expression.  This moves people, it connects people.  Nobody on earth is perfect, so perfection does not connect people, it distances people and it distances you from your real art.  Do not be afraid of writing and developing ideas.  You are in command if you wish to be and start writing patiently but steadily.  Rome was not built in a day.

 

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Stories to ponder.

Against the forces of evil (1-min. read)

This is my personal story:
      One rainy night my parents and I were coming back home, when a heavily drunk asshole hit our Peugeot (that’s a car, for you Americans who do not know) and sent us all to the near Mar Del Plata’s main hospital (Mar Del Plata, Argentina, where I was born and raised).  I had been injured pretty badly, and actually much more than my parents; the ambulance couldn’t revive me as I was in a deep unconscious state, losing blood and seizing every five minutes.  Once there, the hospital team did everything they could to bring me back to life, but it was too late, for I was dead, gone from this physical plane.
 Several minutes later, I don’t know how or why (I just know that nothing that happens is random, all has a purpose in life–even when we don’t understand what’s happening) but I returned to life, and greatly changed (not just in physical function but in other aspects as well).  Now, I won’t tell you that while dead or unconscious without pulse I saw some brilliant light or angels or pearly gates swung open or anything like that.  Let your imagination fly–there is not enough use of good imagination now-a-days.
     After that, to make it shorter, I acquired certain talents or “conscious endowments”.  And in the course of many months, I encountered great abilities head-on (granted they weren’t strong yet, but in firm transition or conscious evolution).  My parents, of course, weren’t told anything because they would not have understood (you know, religious parents, or “normal-by-this-society” parents).  And at the same time, I needed more time for myself and “to find me”.  Put it simply, I wanted a job where I could meet great experiences, develop great wisdom in those extraordinary lessons from life itself, so I went in search for one.  So, after months of search for the right one for me, Mr. Hernandez—a Psychic Investigator and a nice man—gave me the opportunity to earn some cash (some pesos), and I joined his ‘Mar Del Paranormal’ agency as an apprentice.
     Adapting was hard, specially having in mind the countless nights of sleep deprivation, sweating, and also the internal transfiguration that my physical body went through during the days and nights.  I felt wretched at times, and at times I felt wonderful; however, I see now that it was not just my inner transmutation that made me feel like that, going through various moods, pains and states of emotion, but also it was my adjusting to the “especial condition”of my job and its high levels of “spiritual” environment.  A lot of energy flowing inside me, I could experience my own consciousness dynamically changing and I was too becoming more in tune with the collective consciousness grid of humankind; all this knowledge and special talents, my intelligence (intellectual and emotional) was certainly growing and I possessed a different, deeper understanding of life, for I could see and sense things that the common individual couldn’t, angels but I could also see demons (and, believe me, they can be anywhere among us, and even now you may have one by your side).
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     I was indeed becoming faster than I had ever been, jumped higher, with inwardly use of another sight into parallel dimensions, and, well, I was certainly sure I could do much more–just needed to figure out how.  Needed to be patient, too; but, as you can imagine, fifteen-year old kids are not too patient (almost sixteen though; big difference, right?).  But, I have to say, I always had a good relationship with my parents and was a good receptor to their examples of behavior; so, my strong character counted with profound insight based on my parents’ wealthy teachings, and I owned a rather resolute and cautious demeanor in my personal life endeavors, and, obviously, this helped to cope with further psychological and spiritual developments in my youth.
     The following weeks of recuperation were horrible, because I was plagued by nightmares of unknown people dying which seemed awfully real, and a plethora of natural catastrophes, and a super-odd premonition about my own father dying in some strange land I did not recognize–all signs of my own apocalypse coming to fruition, a renaissance or rebirth of my consciousness.
      I had slowly accepted my role as a higher-conscious entity in constant development and had also learned to make the best of it.  So, over the course of the next year, Mr. Hernandez aided me in understanding my transformation further–he was indeed a very emotionally intelligent psychic with many outstanding qualities, awards, and mystical experiences–and in how to embrace my evolving powers, and so make my multi-dimensional transition more natural for me.  How to hide my true persona when mixing with others in high school, how to control my powerful mind, how to manage my insatiable hunger for learning (since I was extremely curious and also always searching for wisdom in books)–all this was well taught to me under his watchful eye.  And in time I stopped being a kid and matured a lot, and became, too, a true higher entity to help those in real danger from the creatures of the night and the darkness.  All this training to prepare for the end of days as we know it:  ‘The presidency of one Mr. Donald Trump!’
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Stories to ponder.

Doosh and the word ‘blue’… (2-min. read)

Once, our planet was just a thought in the mind of a novelist…

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Billions over billions over billions of years ago, in a far galaxy, there existed an alien humanoid with a very odd, but highly creative, idea…

     At eight o’clock on Monday morning LaCoke Doosh did not feel particularly good.  He struggled to his feet, got up, wandered bleary-eyed ‘round his large room, opened his Roman-style arched  windows, stuck out his head to breathe in fresh air, saw a bulldog, and let out a most foul language when bird-droppings landed right on his head.  “MOTHER******!”

That was when one of his neighbors heard him, Mrs. Nagalot.  A sixty-three  lightyear old widow that LaCoke didn’t like that much–actually not at all.  She didn’t like him either, or people, period!  “Hey, put a damn sock in it, Doosh!  Some of us like mornings without your potty mouth!!” she yelled from her patio.

He reached for a towel on the chair which was next to the window.  “Sorry, Mrs. Nagalot!” he said with a big, teeth-filled smile, while also wiping the bird caca from his face.  “…You old  bag.”  He made sure that that last one was only for himself to hear.  Dropped the towel onto the floor and shot a look at his messy room.  “Ugh–  I’ll clean it up sometime.  Now I gotta whiz like a race horse!”  Found his slippers and stomped off to the bathroom to do his business.

After shower, toothpaste on the brush so—  Scrub.

After scrubbing, a few gargles to kill bad breath—  Shinny smile.  “Damn–”  He felt some pressure within the plumbing.  Then some silent and toxic gases left the building.

Shaving cream and Trimette razor spotted.  Crooked shaving mirror—he adjusted it just right.  A few funny  faces, while looking for wrinkles and adoring his new nose.  For a moment, the mirror reflected a second bulldog in his room—  Oh, how he hated that nasty bulldog Mrs. Nagalot had gotten as a gift on her sixty-first lightyear birthday!  It would make the little hairs on his ass stand up.  Properly  adjusted the mirror, it also reflected LaCoke Doosh’s awkward sideburns.  He shaved them off, washed, dried and went downstairs to get some breakfast.

Kitchen  scene—  Plug-in, coffeemaker, sugar, cup, spoon, Supernova’s coffee cakes.  Fridge—  Milk, cream, Coca Cola.  Yawn.

The image of his creation wandered throughout his wobbly mind in search of something to connect with or to focus on.  The sole word, he thought it was cool.  Maybe even his best creation yet.  “Readers  will  love  it.”

He stared at it.

Blue.  It is a good color, isn’t it?  He took the last sip of coffee and stomped off back to his bedroom to get dressed.

Passing a large, squared mirror which was hanging from the circular wall next to his bedroom, he peered with more detail at his ugly reflection on it.  Mmmm–  Something was odd.  Definitely uglier this morning.  He then began to suspect that he was hangover. . .  Why am I hangover?  Didn’t drink that much last night.  Only twenty rocket beers.  Thirty cherry ass-blasters.  And, umm, five pipe rusters.  But due to the late, slight pounding in his head and the bags around his eyes, he supposed he could be.  He then caught a glint in the mirror.  “Blue?…  Blue…,” he hissed, and kept on to the bedroom.

He paused in place and thought, Try harder, c’mon…  The pub!, he mused excitedly.  Oh flicksters, the pub!  He vaguely remembered being angry, defending something that meant a lot to him.  Something that seemed very important at the time.  He’d been telling people about it.  They had asked  him.  At his greatest visual recollection, that was of glazed looks on people’s faces, he saw them laughing at his idea until puking,  mocking  it terribly.  Mocking the new sci-fi novel he was writing.  I mean, it was a good idea.  The fact that the High Council hadn’t created a new planet in a hundred lightyears weighted, some people even had forgotten that they still did that.  What do they know?  They are just drunkies!  He championed the idea all the way, and he thought that a planet of mostly water wasn’t that ridiculous to begin with anyway.

God!–  What a terrible hangover it had earned him though.  Terrible because it was growing and sounding like a loud banging of drums.  He looked at himself in the wardrobe mirror.  He stuck out his hairy, purple tongue–  “Aaaaaahh!…”  Blue, he thought.

The word ‘blue’ wandered through his wobbly mind in search of something to connect with…

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Stories to ponder.

Bubbles…

Blop–  Blop–  Globules of dreams.  Spherical forms of happiness and misery.  Color changing bubbles reflecting her soul and mine, what was gained, what was lost.  At times red.  At times blue.  At times bright recollections, thousands of them, of a past alive and fresh.  At times obscure reminders, millions of them, of a past so miserable and frustrating which I could not bear for the life of me.

Blop– Blop–  The new house on the valley of roses and thorns.  That fateful night of pure romance.  My soul-twin.  And the warm touch of her hand.  The faucet dripping.  The cat which I never loved.  Those Teddy bears which mocked me when I passed our room.  I had made my demands and she had made hers, but it all had been a whirlwind and no one had known what had happened.  I did swim deeply in the love she had offered,  even though I had hated her amusements and characters.  And so she had hated mine.

Blop– Blop–  We had been lovers and enemies.  I see that through the bubbles now.  I surrender to many things now, my immaturity and blindness, my ego and arrogant ways…  But I recognize now through the color-changing bubbles that my surrendering comes too late.  Too late.  The car had deviated from its path and the bridge had marked the next event, and so it had been too late for us…  The bubbles…  The bubbles were awaiting patiently.  And maybe.  Maybe it was written in the stars.  Maybe it was written in our souls.  Only God knows that.

Blop– Blop–  The depth is incredible, there are fish here and it is beautiful, spirits of love and tenderness among my recollections of happiness and sadness; I keep seeing through its mirror, I keep seeing her and she smiles.  And our flesh and thought is old now, dying, dead, because of the bubbles, and because of the car…  The car which forged our destiny, the end of our happiness and misery, the end of our love and hate.

 

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Anatomy and physiology of life

Biology of the pen.

“Writing means sharing.  It’s part of the human condition to want to share things–thoughts, ideas, opinions.”  ~ Paulo Coelho; Brazilian lyricist and novelist.

 

Throughout history, without exceptions, man has always felt the necessity to express himself, as part of his biology and as a way to know himself and his innermost thoughts and feelings; because keeping them inside only makes the human experience not worth it, for human beings are a collection of billions around the world with different beliefs and experiences, but in essence, beyond all thought and form, we are all really one and that is why we struggle to express our current human individuality through various forms of expression.  So the urge is spiritual or coming from the energy which makes this human form and thought we carry around, and we transform this urge into writing, painting, sculpting, filmmaking, photography, dancing, performing, the act of sex, violence, arguments, relationships, sports, etc. etc.

Writing and the development of writing is specially freeing to me because it allows me to know myself in detail, I get to look deep within me and find everything and anything which makes me who I am as a human expression, everything and anything which creates my thinking and feeling, and so I get to experience how my thoughts arise and fall and how my emotions flow constantly up and down like a roller coaster.  Pouring your thoughts and emotions give you absolute freedom and power over yourself, because writing is a detailed form of expression; and besides that, it is creative, no matter what you write if it comes from your heart, and creativity is the only outlet to manifest the past, present, and future of our perspectives in this life, and creativity is what flows all around us and within us.

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Writing is a most influential way to communicate and wake people to other views and realities, as people tend to create their own views and realities so it is essential to understand and absorb the experiences of others in order to better ourselves and widen our mental horizons.  Quite often, more than we would like to admit, one feels overwhelmed and confused by superficial thoughts and stresses of ever day, so in this way it is very important to observe our inner condition and let it all out through the sharing process.  At the physiological and also psychological levels, we need to take care of our mental frustrations and stressful data overflowing our nerves, which has a giant effect on our immune system.

In order to avoid illnesses of the mind and of the body, being creative and self-expressive in our writing are two things that must go hand in hand; opposite to this, if we repress one or the other within us and negate of either its existence, then, we will clutter inside and become filled by all this–i.e. no real creativity is expressed from us, and so this will cloud our rationality and influence our thoughts and behaviors towards our own selves and towards others, this will then bring much suffering into our relationships and into all endeavors in our life.

We need to be open with ourselves and honest with ourselves, because in this self-absorbed society, where everyone is rushing everywhere, there is no knowledge of self to taste real freedom; and, through creative and self-expressive writing you can achieve to motivate others to taste that same freedom and/or learn from your own experiences, connecting thus all humanity and bringing a higher conscious awareness.