On writing
There is a radiance about a thought, a luminous sparkle that brings a special heat to the self. Especially when the thought is contained within the semiotic code of an image. The strange synesthesia of imagination, the oddly glowing pulse of creativity, whose blossom has so much promise. But like a flower it is delicate and transient. Without the proper conditions it will die, flutter away on the winds of mundane, everyday things. An idea, an image, a thought, must be nurtured, treated with gentle kindness and respect. For every idea that survives, a dozen die, unable to reach their zenith, unable to find their way from heart to mind, mind to reality, reality to keyboard, keyboard to page. There’s a delicacy, a phantom courtship that goes on between conscious and unconscious; a flirtation, swollen by promise and need. The journey of the idea is a hazardous one. The idea could be highjacked, lost, forgotten, it can fall out of favour when it finds itself under the scrutiny of logic’s unforgiving spotlight, and like anything that belongs, it must be taken care of. Put through its paces and exercised. If, in a few days, after sweating and straining beneath the attention of the mind, the idea survives, then the transcendant magic can be allowed to happen. The metamorphosis that turns the image, the thought, the idea into tangible, positive reality. #Writing #Imagination Text field Is editing There is a radiance about a thought, a luminous sparkle that brings a special heat to the self. Especially when the thought is contained within the semiotic code of an image. The strange synesthesia of imagination, the oddly glowing pulse of creativity, whose blossom has so much promise. But like a flower it is delicate and transient. Without the proper conditions it will die, flutter away on the winds of mundane, everyday things. An idea, an image, a thought, must be nurtured, treated with gentle kindness and respect. For every idea that survives, a dozen die, unable to reach their zenith, unable to find their way from heart to mind, mind to reality, reality to keyboard, keyboard to page. There’s a delicacy, a phantom courtship that goes on between conscious and unconscious; a flirtation, swollen by promise and need. The journey of the idea is a hazardous one. The idea could be highjacked, lost, forgotten, it can fall out of favour when it finds itself under the scrutiny of logic’s unforgiving spotlight, and like anything that belongs, it must be taken care of. Put through its paces and exercised. If, in a few days, after sweating and straining beneath the attention of the mind, the idea survives, then the transcendant magic can be allowed to happen. The metamorphosis that turns the image, the thought, the idea into tangible, positive reality. #Writing #Imagination
