Leave your reason why you write. The comments will be the contents of this post.
Idea starters: Why do you write...
to ____________...
or your writing has changed __________...
what was your first post about...
why is not ________...
write one sentence describing your blog's ________...
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to ____________...
or your writing has changed __________...
what was your first post about...
why is not ________...
write one sentence describing your blog's ________...
Posts
33 comments:
I write because it helps me decipher and promote my thought-train better. My first write-up was about 'Obscene art shouldn't be promoted'
And I think we share our content because its exciting to able to share than keep it all in a closed journals ;)
What a glorious phrase! Thought-train. Yes, a train has cars that are connected.. they go on a journey there is action in thought. Yes. thought-train. I can hear your and my thought chugging, connecting across so many dimensions. Exciting to be moving like a train... and the mind does often stay on the 'tracks.'
Writers and tracks that is my definition of poetry.
Wow! Thank you Sadaf! It feels so good when the mind can play! I am into a Christopher Robin day with Sneezles and Wheezles. Here's a link to this delicious poem:
http://allpoetry.com/poem/8518987-Sneezles-by-A.A._Milne
I blog, writing, posting art/photos as a creative outlet in a community atmosphere
haven't found soulmate creative tribe types in my physical location, but they are right here with me through online interaction
it is my lifeline
Kel, you have created many interactive parts to your blog at http://xfacta.blogspot.com/
such as your imbedded link, Building a Wild Self, through the New York Zoos and Aquarium [http://www.buildyourwildself.com/}
even labeling your comments ...from blog buddies. You extend creative lifelines to others. It is so personalized I feel like I am at your easel looking over your shoulder when I visit your blog.
By inviting dialogue with your artistic process style you model interaction creating what they used to call a 'guild' in medieval times.
This is similar to your descriptor 'soulmate creative tribe'. I am learning about inviting audiences into the process through your blog... The more peacock feathers I see then the larger my creative palate is.
Thank you for contributing new art 'tracks' and insight for connecting in the online community and Good Luck on your upcoming publishing endeavor through arthouse.
There's alot worse things I could be doing -- this keeps me out of trouble. ;)
Ironic that your comment says your art keeps you out of trouble. Sometimes writing can be too close to home and does oft get me INTO TROUBLE. But such trouble does shake the dust down and then you can write more clearly in the dust esp w less words and less art strokes.
Guess it all depends on your reactivity. Myself being an ADDer [with Attention Deficit Disorder] the impulsivity does make for techie problems of undoing a blog post! And you thought no one noticed! Hmmm!
I write because I couldn't stop, even if I wanted. There are so many stories in the world and I'm a story-telling conduit.
I write to be read, whether it's by myself or other people. Putting ideas on paper helps make sense of them. Some remain as private notes but others feel worth sharing. It's the transformation of the personal experience into something universal that is, for me, the challenge of making art.
i'm so much better at writing than speaking...putting my thoughts on paper...well, usually it's typing nowadays...
writing is like therapy for me. so is my art. and so is my picture taking.
my very first blog post was all about...hmmmm...now that i'm here...what am i going to do? i have evolved...as we all have i guess...
Hey Jean , hope you're fine and thinking brilliant things as usual :)
I've changed my blog address to www.wowelldone.blogspot.com and my profile name to Baji.Thought I'd inform you :)
Found a glorious interview on why Terrance Keenan paints and writes: It is as his grandfather told him when Terrance asked his grandfather, Peter Keenan, Why do you paint: "Art is a way to talk to God."... Then the young Terrance asked his grandmother why don't you paint: "My home is my art."
Read more of Fiona's Interview with Terrance Kennan: Artist, Writer, Monk at her blog: Writing Our Way Home: http://www.writingourwayhome.com/2012/02/interview-with-terrance-keenan-artist.html
Be aware: the interview raises more questions than answers...
But then again it is that not, What Art is? A forever search...
just a personal note... I write to understand myself. It is like I search for the definition of my words. Literally I know what my words mean but inside myself words are like echoes within my heart-- They keep reverberating or echoing within and never stop.
Is this how it is with you?
Less is More. The conciseness and thought-provoking of one blog I follow [A Cool Mind] needs no explanation of why this blogger writes. Go to this blog's entry and see for yourself the distillation of thought: http://dannish-dannish.blogspot.com/2012/03/wars-of-heart-mind-and-gut.html
i think as i type. hence, writing helps me clear my head. i blog mostly when am too bored during my class lectures. works for me :)
I write because it's an evidence that I'm alive, and it calms me down when I know that I left a small ink behind. An ink that represents the path that I walked upon in this world.
I thank you soo much. I was searching and struggling over this question for a few weeks now, and when I read your post and these lovely comments (bless you guys)...it just hit me like lightining. So I thank you again....for reminding me of the reason I write:)
Jean, so lovely meeting you. Thanks for the writing prompt today. :)
Writing and art go together like peanut butter and jelly for me. I just can't have one without the other. And that's the way life is for me, too. If I don't create something each day, something is lacking. That something is life itself. Makes each day much tastier--some days it's sweet and creamy, sometimes crunchy and bumpy. It's not always "easy," but it's a true blessing in disguise. I'll take that over a vanilla existence any day. No exquisite ennui for me, thanks.
Signed,
The girl who lives a story of her own
With serious deliberation, I write because it is like breathing...something autonomic. Done without outside influence. Done entirely because my self drives me to it.
Perhaps it is too many years of silence when I should have had pride in the value of my thoughts when others denied their existence.
Writing is like breathing--done to take in the good and expel the bad. This must continue ere we die of starvation of self-expression.
Too many deaths of starvation of many kinds,,, Yes, I write. I breathe. I must expel the good air with the bad air. I must trust the voice within.
The process of in and out create a rhythm of speech that must be said OUT LOUD ere the soul self-destruct from imploding.
Been close to imploding so call it self-destruction like suicide... Writing, creating, journaling, expressing is like having lungs to breathe. Writing is a vital organ. Do not doubt its vitality. Change begins within before it occurs outside with others.
Writing unwinds the tangled strangles of life . To continue living I MUST UNTANGLE THE THOUGHTS THAT RACE THROUGH MY MINE.
Beginning to realize I write to escape...
Idea starters: Why do you write...
to ____________...
or your writing has changed __________...
what was your first post about...
why is not ________...
write one sentence describing your blog's ________...
Why do I write? To breathe life into my mind and body. Writing has changed to be more less yet more contemplative.
Writing is not the "Why?" search exploration it used to be. My blog is meant to provide examples for others to find their "own" answers to "Why?" questions.
The cat whiskers and the music box which began the blog though still hold a respite for my mind, body and breath of a kind of spiritual yoga which transfixes and weaves inner silence...
Maybe I am at the period of life like Charles Bukowski where I go to watch the life at the racetracks of others to stop the race within.
As Charles Bukowski wrote in the poem, a wild, fresh wind blowing...
..."I am a dolt of a man, easily made happy or even
stupidly happy almost without cause
and left alone I am mostly content.
but I've lived so often and so long with this hatred"
[sic of his father's and others hatred, foremen, street bums and women]
"that
my only freedom, my only peace is when I am away from
them, when I am anywhere else, no matter where--
some fat old waitress bringing me a cup of coffee
is in comparison
like a fresh wild wind blowing."
writing is life expressed in words...inadequate words...but then life has so many ups and downs.
Best books have the peaks and valleys but help you learn how to climb and how to fall.
Hi Jean,first of all thanks alot for visiting my blog,it makes me really happy.your blog is really sweet,i hope that this journey will continue.
Hi Jean.
I write to express my thoughts and feeling. It is like catharsis. Images and art is also a kind of expression. Visit my blog.
hi jean. thanks for stopping in today! (i miss laurak's posts. hope she comes back soon).
i am laughing at nancy's answer above. that's a good one!
i blog to share the beauty i see all around me, here. i know how blessed i am and feel i need to share as best i can. :)
To speak my mind requires readiness. By staying in the moment l begin to stand upright and walk toward truth, mindful of past hesitancy hedges and tripping over old rose brambles. Joy comes from letting go of thorny old stories I tell myself and laying small stones and then leaping free with an Aha!
(i miss laurak, too!)
Crowded bird-feeder, my cat throttles an alert.
Puffed feathers and raised wings,
More cat chortles.
Clock ticks.
Moment observed.
Tick. Tock.
Breathing out.
Neighbor’s muffled TV.
A swish of a passing car.
Return to breathing…
In and out.
Thich. Tock. Hmm.
Hindsight. Foresight.
Undisciplined.
Switch to Observance.
Focus breathing.
Mindsight.
Disciplined mind.
Words. Glorious descriptors!
What if no words?
Perhaps pictures…
Are pictures words too?
Sounds, too?
Perhaps touch…maybe.
I dunno.
Breathing.
Thoughts noticed.
No stories spun.
Peaceful deep breathing.
Feelings noticed.
Just breathing.
Discipline repeated.
Mindful of breathing.
Cover-clad
Whir of furnace engine
Silence.
Thud above.
Tinny silence.
Breathe.
Body sighs
Clock tock.
Soft chimes echo in the wind--
Their tubal copper highlights swing outside
And beside the window my body sinks deeper in the sofa
And my son's dog rhythmically licks my hand.
Thoughts breathe in and out.
My heart beats Jack is here.
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