I have faced countless experiences living in this busy world where no footstep is silent. As a person of the pen, what I wanted was neither a place nor an object to strike up my imagination into something truly magical. It was nothing.
Nothingness is bliss. Being absolutely nothing, living in empty vacuum where even the vacuum is nonexistent is a blessing. It is the feeling of total containment without the container. It is being someone without length, without width and without height to restrict. I find inspiration in that essence of life I only dared to admit. It is a wager I hold between I and society. In stillness I find meaning, in emptiness I find being, in nothing I see everything. There is my whole life unfolding before my eyes in nothingness. I see every possibility in every nook and cranny. I imagine the unimaginable and dream of the impossible in my nil solitude. Heck I can draw a Mona Lisa with crooked smile in there. It is freedom.
I went outside for a search of inspiration that dwelt in unfamiliar place. I hiked mountains, smelled the flowers and lied back as I out of the blue determined the shape of the clouds. I did everything I read in blogs and magazines aimed to enlighten the foggy minded on how to write masterpieces. But still, I was lost to find something I knew wasn`t there. So, like any normal person would do I shredded my notebook and formatted my laptop off my agony and just remained. With my hand brewed Americano in my widowed fingers, I drifted off to what I called the `black hole for the recently de-penned`. And for the very first time, I was inspired.
I was inspired by the calmness that resides in nothing, the silence that ruled it all and the beauty darkness couldn`t beat. I was inspired by how simple all those problems were and how insignificant the idea of `being inspired` really was. I was inspired for the life of me with the blank canvas in front of me; screaming words felt. I didn`t need flowers or music. I was full with inspiration in that zilch world of mine.
I never talk about this place I frequent to; because not many people have come to admit that one can be something in nothing. It is not a writer`s block. If I wanted to write, I could have; easily, without having to resort to imagination triggers. But I will never write what a writer should. Without my inspiration, words were words. A writer should write about the ugliest things in the most beautiful way. A writer should write hands tied and pen over the head. And nothingness is a perfect place for that.
In that bliss and blessing, a write gives life with nothing to write with. A writer illuminates over that emptiness to a new spark. Nothingness inspires me with the all the possibilities and nothing makes me complete. When I play dice with the wager and I win, that`s when a masterpiece is born. Because it is a game no one can lose.
So as I grow better in the craft, nothing will also grow. Nothing will contain my failures, harbor my triumphs and remember my roots. But I know that I`ll never look for an inspiration. There is nothing to look.
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