I recently bought a lovely Dutch magazine called Happinez. It was their first English issue and it was beautiful. Eagerly, I went to the last page of the magazine to find out when the next issue would be out. Nada. No information. So I went to their homepage. Nothing again. Rather frustrating, but hardly serious, since this is just leisurely reading and enjoying beautiful pictures. I can understand that it takes time to pull together all that’s needed for a new issue of  a new magazine. And as you might, or might not have noticed, I take my time with my blog posts, too. Evidently, I don’t have a million readers to consider…

I did make a conscious decision to go with the flow with this blog, said to myself that I wouldn’t push or punish myself if I didn’t write. After all, this is a highly personal endeavor, and while it is true that I have this dream of touching people with my writing, mainly I’m doing it for my own satisfaction – and if that’s true, what would be the point of pushing myself?

For quite a while now, I’ve felt uninspired and stuck when it comes to writing, often carrying the sense that I have nothing worthwhile to say. And even when I do, I don’t really feel that I have the authority to raise my voice. After all, what do I know?! My readers, that is my friends, do know at least as much about life as I do!

Matisse’s figures dancing with verve

Still, of all the things I want to do (which is a lot), it is the inner writer that is screaming the loudest for attention. Every day, topics are chasing me, words are tugging at me, messages want to get out there… It’s like a paradoxical, hopeless version of hide and seek: I feel that the writing is chasing ME and yet I CAN’T FIND *IT*. It’s like there are all these different ideas dancing around me, singing, shouting, and even pulling at my clothes –  and I’m there, in the middle of it all, blindfolded, not able to see or touch them; they are just out of reach. And I’m standing there dully, doing nothing – not moving, not reaching out to them, not even taking off the blindfold, despite actually having free hands.

Well, at least I took out my pen and shared my experience with you.

Author Elizabeth Gilbert argues, that ultimately, when people want to write, but aren’t doing it, it usually comes down to FEAR. I’m glad she’s a person who’s looking at people with kind eyes. I will try to look at myself with kind eyes, too. And take the courage to find out what specifically it is I’m afraid of – hoping that ideas, words, and messages will be patient and stay around until I’ve found out.