It all begun with a very basic insight had in year 2000, after a fairly common episode. I was at the beach in some island and had pen and paper in my lap, looked up to observe the surrounding and suddenly 100 words started literally dancing in my head. A very usual experience, it happens all the time, but it only then occurred to me, it was like magic and I had it for granted! An image I saw, thus the impact of Vision, produced Inspiration, which in turn led to a chain of reactions: Thoughts – Emotions – Synthesis – Expression: Writing.
I turned inwards for many years after this sudden revelation, became interested in observing my senses at work, became interested in interacting with myself and studying the inspiration process, trying to understand it. This practice translated in a picture back then: I resembled a cook, baking a pie.
I entered this picture as the cook at first, I saw the senses were my ingredients, started sizing and weighting them, begun amalgamation, experimented with baking temperatures, baking time, thus… how long to expose myself to a certain situation, how involved to become, for then on passing on to the tasting… All the passages of the recipe were repeated over and over again, many times, with different analogies, different mixing techniques, and reported daily in writing. I figured out I was both the cook and the pie but also the guest at the table, ready to taste it, the picture took many other forms and roles along the years, but I still like calling my experiences, pies!
Each pie I bake has a meaning, has a feel of the context I am in. Has all I can be and give to the environment, in a specific moment in time. Every and each pie, is ME, in the process of elaborating thoughts and emotions, to consequently serve them on a page in a structure I feel comfortable with.
I realize this has been a great exercise for me, I continue it, as if it were just a game I appreciate or a daily routine of mine, yet there is much more to it than simply writing a diary, notes, thoughts, poems… I see the produce of each sensation as being a drop of a unique essence, now, and I owe the cultivation of this perception of life to the practice of writing.
Each one of us has an essence, like flowers do, like every plant does, so do human beings. Yet the process for extracting this essence doesn’t need be detrimental to the human shape, as it is to the flower or plant, the flower or plant does not speak, the human does, the flower or plant doesn’t act of choice, the human, does. We can extract our own essence without harming ourselves or others and give priceless tokens of it.
This essence is both the source and synthesis of our vital energy, and if we study and cultivate it well enough, we could one day reveal it tranquilly to each other, and rejoice being and sharing our unique essences among ourselves, our true selves.
Struggling within and without, is a painful experience, but until we all reach our essence, is an inevitable one. Yet in the struggle there is a trigger, underlays a hidden question: “How can I be ME letting others be THEMSELVES too and viceversa?”
Finding our unique essence takes us closer to resolving this mystery. After all what is there to be, combine and share, when we run unaware of what we really are made of? Yet, is it existential to find our essence, be it and share it? IT IS NOT. It is a choice. Like it is just a choice to shout at someone:”You are an idiot!”, or tell him: “I cannot understand why you stepped on my flower garden, when there is a cement path next to it, to walk on!”
It is a choice, and this choice doesn’t result from upbringing, culture, gender, trend or other general measures for likelihood to mingle in the paths of the mind. It stems out of the sensation you are left with, when facing your own actions, the impact of thy, the pulse of inspiration and the power of expression, when awakened by the urge to understand the above mentioned phenomenon… but also when sensing something in your reactions is “not yours” rather “acquired” or “mimed” by your mother, father, another. When you sense there is fake in what you say or think, not because what is thought or said doesn’t make sense, but because it is not you saying it, not you entirely thinking it, believing it. When you are suffering but know you could do otherwise and just like that catch yourself suddenly relieved by the sight of the simplest movement of two lips, realizing someone is smiling at you. When you ask yourself “Why? How did this happen?”… When you attempt your own answer!
It is a choice to be the product of a society or to be an individual within society. It depends entirely on each one of us, freedom comes with choice, and we all have plenty of choices to account our living with.
To find the essence is to care about all we produce, is to be able and sit down listening patiently to all of these products of ours, not discriminating on any, never leaving them out of place, never hiding them below a carpet but finding ways to let them all coexist and be equally significant, special and beautiful, at least to us. In my opinion the best way to go about this choice – of course – if deciding to try, is finding a manner, an expression that doesn’t harm either you or another, I found writing, amongst other, met my criteria.
This essence would have absolutely no reason to exist, if I as a human were alone in a sterile environment without internal or external incentive, because its purpose is to sense the impulse given by interaction, by the connection to another. Transforming each single creature into a unique, special, interactive being.
So, are you aware of your essence? In other words, do you know what makes of you, the One only You can be?