Friday Reflections, Volume IV

Finding My Feet

I'm getting into the swing of regular posting now. I've been solidly writing for a month now, and it feels pretty good actually. Writing soothes my soul, whether it is online or in my personal journal. And each medium produces a different type of output. So far, my writing here is a crystallisation of thoughts; a connection of previously random dots. An overlap between personal insight, technical experience and macro trends. It helps anchor my worldview by forcing me to convert musings into letters, words and paragraphs. Then I add a dash of visual inspiration, of course, with a fitting photo (thank you Unsplash!).

My posting schedule is a work in progress. It has been daily throughout the working week, with a break at weekends. I'll get up, take the nutty Beagle for a walk, and upon my return I commit to 30 (i.e. 60) minutes with my brain and my keyboard. My level up now is to return to tweeting. I'm thinking of converting 2 writing days to tweeting days? We'll see. Either way it is all very exciting, and exactly in line with my intuition.

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Cosmic Flow

Journaling is a very different experience. The very act of writing on paper, with a fine 0.38 gel ink ballpoint pen, is cathartic for me. With posting, I'll settle on a theme and get to work. In my diary, there are greater forces at play. I simply stare at the page. Whatever is written, is written. There is something in the movement of the hand; it is the flow of emotion into reality. Or something like that. I can't quite describe how it all works. Not yet, anyway. I capture my thoughts and feelings, no matter what they are, and store them on sheets of paper.

There are good days and bad days, trust me. My pleasant days result in neat writing, real reflection and logical sentences. On my very worst days I am like Jack in The Shining. A scribbled mess of anger and distress. Repeated (unrepeatable) phrases. Lots of capital letters I notice. The sheer strength of feeling is there in front of me. I can see it staring back at me. And it instantly evaporates. Gone. In a flash. Because ultimately, whether it is glowing ego or destructive self pity - when it is written down, it all comes across as rather shallow. After all, it is just neurons sparking in a certain way.

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Making Space

So ultimately, what is the point of all this effort? Well, it all comes back to creation. I think it is best summed up by an old tweet of mines;

I seek to be my best self. For this I need a calm, satisfied mind. And that is not possible with a mental backlog. A neural traffic jam, if you will. Hence why I write. It is the freeway towards a better existence.

So that concludes our special early edition of Friday Reflections. Now I must dart off, and explore the Mornington Peninsula.

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Signing out, Steven.

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Photo by Daniele Levis Pelusi on Unsplash.