There is something compelling when the laws of psychology and the laws of physics meet in twain and run in parallel: what stays in motion remains in motion, but once an action is stopped, so it does remain stopped.
A Hermetic would find this parallel fitting: as above, so below
It applies to productivity, to blog-writing, and as it would seem, to non-blog writing as well.
In this case, it so happened that I was interrupted by a bit of sickness. You see, I like blackened chicken. I don’t like food poisoning. Sometimes, aided by rushed timetables, fast food laziness and undercooking, they co-exist in the same time slice and involve me. The word “blackened” as it turns out, does not have much to do with the cooking methodology and so as I rambled vaguely on the notions of health and epics of internal gastrological battles while brooding on my misery, I didn’t do much writing.
And once I fall off from it, restarting it requires a further immanentization of thoughts as if distant into words; this can seem strange in a way, because one would think that the thoughts are always with us, and thus, the words to have been elicited from such thoughts are always with us.
But no, perhaps it is not so. Words are a real thing, an artifact of creation abetted by thousands of years of human history and very much social technology in its own right(for example, we did not even use punctuation marks until relatively recently). And in the creation of words, is the real creation of value by which we can springboard and then find ways to continue to build on.
It is, as one article which I read on and which very much inspired me, often just sweating and simple labor, and from there, from the many things of sand and coal that we hammer out, do we find something worthwhile. Its easy to put in a cliche here like “diamond from the coal”, but as it turns out, diamonds rarely come from coal mines. The substance may be similar, for both are carbon, but the process of creation betwixt diamond and coal are quite different and so, the end result is very spectacularly different yet.
In the end, really, there is sometimes nothing to do but to banish the phantasms of terror from one’s mind and go back and hammer against at the walls. Because motion is life, and that motion is ultimately quite benign, despite what our minds make out the shadows to be.
We are more often frightened than hurt; and we suffer more from imagination than from reality
Seneca
