Touching the void
When I am creating, I touch that quiet place deep inside me and listen. It is very much like sitting next to a large pool of water and throwing a stone into it.
The waves reflect and refract as I feel for the next words just out of my reach. So many feelings that I try to describe in that place. Words are inadequate.
So I do my best with the tools I have.
Sometimes whole creations will ascend out of that pool and I feel exuberant. Other times I sit and come back calm and quiet. I guess it is my form of meditation.
I have met unbearable beauty and terrifying monsters in that depth.
I learned that when I come back and touch the physical world that it is a mirror of what I see there.
Some writers have a muse or they induce these states with alcohol. I've found that alcohol does not help me write. It only smooth the edges for a little while. So alcohol is my kriptonite because I could not do this without the edge that sees into the depth.
I think I am broken in some way-- my self has cracks. I don't believe everyone can do this. Most only see the physical and the rational. I have a brain that makes connections that don't seem right in the short term, but is very right when seen from the long perspective.
Sometimes my dreams are more real than this world. But then after slipping to the void, I wonder if this is a dream-- all of it.
Are we the dream or the dreamers?