For the last few days I have been reading about writing and it kind of helps align your thoughts and inspire you to put the pen to the paper (or rather hands on the keyboard). There is something I read today morning which I felt worth sharing. Two things actually.
One was about writing being cathartic (I want quote it verbatim). About it opening up doors to your inner self. It is about sitting, thinking, dreaming, opening up your innerself to your rational mind. Looking at the multitude within you to come up with characters and feelings that are to be given to those little men and women on paper. In this very beautiful article on writing based on Dani Shapiro's book, she talks about looking at the wilderness within us world without the blinders on. Found the following words from the article inspiring and hence thought of sharing it with all the bloggers :
" The page is your mirror. What happens inside you is reflected back. You come face-to-face with your own resistance, lack of balance, self-loathing, and insatiable ego—and also with your singular vision, guts, and fortitude. No matter what you've achieved the day before, you begin each day at the bottom of the mountain. … Life is usually right there, though, ready to knock us over when we get too sure of ourselves. Fortunately, if we have learned the lessons that years of practice have taught us, when this happens, we endure. We fail better. We sit up, dust ourselves off, and begin again."
While reading on with the links in the article, I came across this beautiful article by someone called Debbie Millman (I never heard of these people earlier, just like you :)) and want to quote something from that article as well.
"Every once in a while, Often when we least expect it, we encounter someone more courageous, someone who chose to strive for that which (to us) seemed unrealistically unattainable, even elusive. And we marvel.We swoon. We gape.Often we are in awe. I think we look at this people as LUCKY, when infact, luck has nothing to do with it. It is really all about the strength of their imagination."
I found the words very inspiring. It takes a lot of strength as a creative artist to open up and accept these truths. Not all characters, and people you think of and write of are you. It would be terrible if you but in your writing lies the secret path to your innermost feelings, and you and only you are able to identify it. It might be in bad grammar on paper, it might be with spelling mistakes, It might as well look entirely impossible and not at all easy to understand, but there in lies your inner self. These article in a way inspired me to treasure my writing, however old and badly shaped. It really is what I once was.
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The blog triggers a few old memories , would like to quote a couple of poems from past (2009-2010) here. Most of these are negative and pessimistic. But pessimism is only a part of one's personality. I remember the sad things without hope and on the other side, there are the positive thoughts, like the ones above, that one gets , which will help fight the negative ones. SO go ahead and tell your self "अबकी बार ये उम्मीदों का शहर मेरा होगा"
2 lines from a pome on how the moments define us:
एक दोराहे पे खड़े, उलझे ख़यालो से मिलाते लम्हे,
सोचो तो आलीम बड़े , खेलो तो खिलखिलाते लम्हे,
ये कर लेता, वो कर पाता, अफ़सोस, मौत की रातें लम्हे,
"काश" की क़ैद में है बँध, मुर्दो पे मक्खी से बिन-बीनाते लम्हे
And
उम्मीदों का शहर
-Jaykumar Shah
आस के वीरान जंगल में, उम्मिदो के कई शहर बसते है,
सब बाशिंदे, ख्वाब से सिकुड के घरों में महफुज़ रहते है,
भरे भरे से हमेशा, उम्मिदो के गाँव, कभी खाली नही होते,
हर घर यहाँ, अपने ही या किसी और के हाथों से बनते है,
जब धीरे से, आहट को दबाए, खोला पहले घर का दरवाज़ा.
देखा तो अपने माँ-बाप के ख्वाबों में मुझको बनना था राजा,
फिर दूसरे घरों की और, एक बॉज़ के साथ बढ़ता रहा तो,
देखा मेरे बच्चों के भी ख्वाब भी इसी शहर में ऐसे रचते है,
उनके लिए कुछ अप्रतिम सी उँचाइयाँ सर करनी है और कही
संगनी की खातिर घरों में अलग ग़ज़लें-महल भी पलते है,
फिर इस शहर के किसी कोने में लावारिस एक खन्डर देखा,
सूम-सान सा लग रहा था तो मैने झाँक के थोड़ा अंदर देखा,
एक टूटी चार पाई पे, एक बीमार, अपाहिज़ उम्मीद पड़ी थी,
सालों पहले कुछ कर दिखाने की, मुझमे जो एक ज़िद बड़ी थी,
भूल गया था कब से इसके बारे में यहा फिर मिल गये हम,
तुमको विकलांग बनाते वक़्त जैसे, दोनो हीथे सहम गये हम,
फिर आज यहाँ उम्मिदो के खंडहर में भूले यार से मिल गये हो,
ये जो पर तुम्हारे, मैने अपने हाथो से, गीत लिख सवारे थे,
अब इन परो के पास मखियाँ की आवाज़ पे जुगनू जलते है,
मेरे इस शहर में बस ये घर मेरा है
छत के उपर जब जाके देखता हू,
कितना बड़ा हो गया है ये शहर कुछ सालों में,
कितने घर, कितनी इमारतें,
कितने लोगो की उम्मीदें,
पर ये शहर तो मेरा था ना?
और मेरी उम्मीदें यहाँ,
इस खंडहर के कोने में सीमित क्यों है?
सोचत हू अबकी बार ये शहर जला दूं,
और फिर तिनका तिनका जोड़ के इससे अपने,
नये पंख बनाऊंगा
अबकी बार ये उम्मीदों का शहर मेरा होगा
