REFLECTIONS AND MIRRORS

In all the academic and artistic endeavors that I have participated in and dedicated myself to, I find that, every time, I always return to writing. Spending hour after hour, I can lose whole days to the art of writing—and I wouldn’t have it any other way. Because there is no release like that of wordsmithing. Some may ask why: you work all day and all night at that burning forge, heavy hammer blistering your now-calloused hand, as you dedicate your time—the most precious commodity you have—to something people may never appreciate. You pour your heart and soul for years on end into a single entity that could be torn apart in a matter of minutes by claws and fangs placed in just the right niches. And in the process of its destruction, your exposed spirit takes damage, too. Which can make one wonder: why why why? Why love something that, in the end, could hurt you so much?

 

Because writing is the song of the silent harmonious heart. Writing is the exploration of the infinite universe of the mind. Writing is the fortune teller, the three fates in one: detailing what is, what could've been, what should've been, and what was. 

 

So the better question then becomes: why not?

 

Why not lay all your thoughts on paper? Why not cut your heart into fantastic shapes and shadows as you delve into its inner chambers and unending labyrinth of vessels? Why not dissect your soul for the sake of philosophical exploration? It’s a huge risk, to lay down the deepest core of your spirit. But it’s all worth it in the end. Because the greatest writing reflects the intricacies of the mind; the most exceptional works attempt to understand—or at least, try to convey—the great and complex human condition. And that cannot be achieved without risk of self and the heart.

 

But my dedication goes far beyond just finding freedom for myself. Because in order to write convincing characters and worlds, I must delve far below the mere surface of the story. I must go and understand the complexities of human nature—to create a person out of paper, I must give them the development they deserve. But even these people of paper cannot be inked out of thin air: to reflect, an object must be placed in the focus of the mirror. And I choose to reflect the world around us.

 

Yet, you may find that in learning about the world and its inhabitants, sympathy is grown for the subject being studied. You may begin by watching so that you can build. But soon enough, you’ll find that you want to build that which you watch. Because between the cold statistics and labels given to people, there are those who hold unique stories. Stories that deserve to be told. And it is then your duty as a writer to learn, to understand, and then to share. To contribute to the art of unfolding.