The eternity of forms

Battling intense mood swings and depressive episodes is not easy — and it’s harder when we forget the little things that made us dream and look forward to a better tomorrow. Even worse, we tend to discard and leave behind the small habits that keep us connected to the “now” — which is the more important between the past and the future.

One of my small creations

Recently, I bought a new journal — engraved with a drawing of the Little Prince (my best friend) hanging by small ropes to a flock of birds, taking flight off his tiny planet and into the unknown. A line underneath the drawing reads, “L’essential est invisible pour les yeax.” The essential is invisible to the eyes.

It’s true. Once I started writing in that journal — after months and months of leaving this habit– I realized that I had the answer all along: I shouldn’t look outside of myself to battle my demons. But perhaps I should look inside, to the things that I already have and thought  I lost, and instead of battling demons, perhaps I should befriend them, even love them. They’ve lived with me for so long, I’m probably their only home. I wouldn’t throw them away.

I’m loyal to strange things.

Writing, and sketching — creating form, ink on paper. Therein lies the magic that perhaps will free me one day. In my first entry, I wrote, “When writing, a person is in the moment, like right now. If you’re focused on getting ink on paper, nothing becomes more important than ink on paper. And within the ink and the words, there’s a certain magic, an incantation and a spell. Am I going crazy? Or is this me finally becoming sane? Finding beauty in the mundane. Or more correctly finding miracles in small things.

Words have a god. And whoever masters words becomes close to this God. If you become a word, the word, you become god. This is the essence of spirituality: becoming infinite inside something. Consigning your soul — this limitless presence– to a single point in space. Points are timeless, or rather not bound by time.”

Self portrait

So are words. And so will you, if you focus so much on the task of producing a word on paper that you disappear in it. Watch the pen move, the ink dispensed, sink into the pores of the paper, grow and stem out into a form that gives meaning, makes sense. Suddenly, the ink takes on new meanings. It becomes alive in the shape that it has created. Iqraa, read it back, breathe in, breathe out, in, out and everything changes. This is the present. Welcome to it.

Words can change the world.

How can this idea not be healing?

Similarly, I tried to re-explore sketching. A beautifully talented Tweep gave me a drawing book, as gift, a week earlier, and I haven’t stopped drawing ever since. And last night, I wasn’t too afraid — as I always were before– to share that bit of myself. So I posted some of these online, and I even changed my Twitter avatar to a self-portrait that I have drawn myself.

Will all this cure my dark episodes? It might. And if not, then it will remain there as testimony to how I tried.

“Nous écrivons des choses eternelles.”

Listening to: Nothing
Mood: Indescribable, hovering in a grey area between happiness and sadness.
Wants from the Universe: Love, love, love and more love. For people, and for things. Mostly, for myself. Because I need that.

6 thoughts on “The eternity of forms

  1. Nothing pulls me out of my own dark moods quite like writing or drawing. Creation of any kind does seem to bring me closer to a unity with the divine… Also, it’s interesting how sitting along with a notebook can pull me out of depression, whereas being at a loud party with many people can make me more depressed….

    Very nice blog. Also, best of luck!

  2. I find the moment I’m truest to myself, is the moment i’m writing.

    The words when placed on a page, are like a private communication between you and yourself, and that allows you to self reflect and eventually soar, be it in a journal, or exploring your perception of the world through writing fiction.

    it’s the same with all arts in my humble opinion.

  3. Art is a way to express yourself & through that you escape circumstances around you. The state of mind art puts you in is precious. You disappear into it. You see things differently. You’re here yet you’re not totally here.

    I’ve always believed artists are troubled souls. Art is beautiful, and beauty for some provides escape.

    Working on any piece of art, you use your imagination and it takes you to worlds that never were, without it we go nowhere, and the frustrations begin. it’s proving to be very difficult to make sense of life, we grow tired. Art saves, believe me!

  4. i think its beautiful that you dedicate yourself to a set of ideas and struggle to live by them. i wrote so many poems myself on freedom before the revolution. i wanted us to start our self liberation and take our destiny into our own hands for a change.

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