Monday, 3 October 2011

Midnight blogger #1

So I believe I've had some sort of epiphany, perhaps even a moment of clarity this evening. All this writing, photography, and music lately must mean something. Not just pretty words or glorious photographs to look at. It should mean something...right?

There's a reason for it all isn't there? The music, the writing, the photography, all this inspiration. Sometimes I just feel like I'm rapidly accelerating towards something but I don't know what exactly. I suppose making some attempt to perhaps better channel and sort this jumbled mess out would benefit me more. But sometimes it just won't come.

I've got the idea these are the things I should be doing, that I'm supposed to be doing. That the muses are pointing me vehemently in this direction for a purpose. Perhaps even I'm meant to do this, but why?

Damnation isn't that the ever eternal question? "Why"?  It's the question that has plagued man for lifetimes. "Why?", "Why are we here?", "Why do people behave the way they do?", "Why do we do the things we do or don't do?". It's endless, as are the reasons behind the questions.

I think I've probably gotten into more trouble asking "why" in my lifetime than I can count. I guess the real question should be "Why not?". I suppose fear is the answer or "what if I'm not good enough?". But I'll let you in on a little arrogant secret...truth is...I could be, and I know it. I really truly could be. I really could be great at writing, or photography, or music for that matter. I've had moments quite frankly of brilliance. In all three areas, that could be embellished upon, and moved forward into true moments of brilliance. But I haven't. Not because I don't think I'm good enough, but because I don't think others will see the potential that I see in myself. Isn't that a kick in the rubber parts?

I don't ever suspect I'll be a Shakespeare or Mary Shelly, or a famous photographer, and I certainly don't think I'll ever be another John Taylor...but when I pick up that bass, or the camera, or the pen...I'm home. I feel calm and at ease, and it brings a smile to my face. At the very least I owe it to myself to do these things for me. To explore and enhance my abilities for me. Even if no one else ever reads, sees or hears what I've accomplished and what I can accomplish; besides you; I'm okay with that. I've laid bare fore myself, and those that truly matter. I've let you in to see the real me. And I'm not afraid anymore. I'm free.

One Last Glimpse,


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