I rarely write in anger, hence this piece from some weeks ago is quite self-exposing and I feel slightly uncomfortable as I hit the Publish button. Anger is a feeling that still triggers shame in me. But what better to do with anger than to channel it into creativity? It’s a powerful force screaming for change!
I’m spending the weekend in Singapore, a weekend bridging two intense work weeks away from home with little time to de-pressurise my internal creativity. I suffer – physically and emotionally – when I don’t find space to write and create. When I only feed one dimension of my being, this 3D world we’re supposed to live in, disconnecting from all the other beautiful dimensions I live in, too.
So when the weekend arrived, I wanted nothing else than to write; in bed, in cafes and by the rooftop pool. I was starving for my stories, but I also knew I needed to do some structuring and strategising. Preparations to open a new chapter, and I needed to at least make some decisions on where and how to share that journey with you. So I did the mistake of starting to research.
Now, 24 hours later, I feel anxious and overwhelmed. And angry with the world.
There’s just so much noise! Too much noise for an introvert like me. My brain hurts. In the mass of information I cannot find anything I relate to, and I feel utterly lonely and misplaced.
It’s a transactional online world. I like you if you like me. It’s like a corporate cocktail party. Noisy and superficial. We’re supposed to network and engage. Entertain and be funny. A desperate need to promote oneself and secure ones existence.
Yes the blogging world is a cocktail party I really don’t want to go to, but I’m craving connection so I go anyway! To unhappy people selling happiness. Wannabe writers selling writing advice. Wannabe bloggers selling blogging advice. The damn “how to” and “10 ways to…” blogs that speak to our shortcut wired brains and fill them up like viruses.
No new thoughts.
I know it’s there, but I can’t find it. There’s a hord of words running towards me, running OVER me, but nowhere I see the truth.
And I just want to scream:
Can’t we see what we are doing?!?
We are SELLING OUR COLLECTIVE SOUL in our search for individual happiness!!!
And suffocating those creating out of passion and purpose. Those channeling a truth – individual, but still a truth! Those who would have been penniless painters and writers and philosophers a century ago. We have crashed THEIR party!
Please shoot me if I ever start to care more about likes and followers than my true mission: to inspire soulfulness and bravery by showing soulfulness and bravery.
And I mean that.
I am not a blogger. I am a creator. I am not trying to be an influencer, I just truly believe in my own work! I read some of my old poems and think wow, did I really give birth to that? It’s so true! It’s a soul brought to life in the body of words. I was merely a vessel. A mother carrying it within me until the time was ripe. And it wants to be seen!
But hardly anyone will ever know my children. I’m creating for no one to see, because I’m refusing the hypocritical transactional self-destructing rules put upon us to keep us busy hunting for recognition!
They will drown in the noise.
Together with all the other children born out of the silence.
Unless we fight for them!