#418 I don’t care what I write
I don’t care what I write.
I care that I write.
Because only once the daily act of writing isn’t in question anymore, can I start writing what matters.
I don’t care what I write.
I care that I write.
Because only once the daily act of writing isn’t in question anymore, can I start writing what matters.
Stream Of Consciousness writing isn’t about what you write. It’s about the very fact that you’re writing.
Nobody cares about the words on the pages. Nobody will read them anyway. Neither should you.
This is not a novel. This is not a love song. This is not a poem. This is but an externalization of your mind’s chatter. Ugly, pretty, insightful, bland. It doesn’t matter.
There’s no great work. Nor is there any bad work. No high standards, no judgment. Nothing but what flows out of your mind.
So if none of it matters… why bother to write Stream of Consciousness?
Because it forces you to slow down.
Because it forces you to pay attention to what’s on your mind.
Because it forces you to listen to the way you talk to yourself.
Because it helps you get all the overwhelming thoughts and worries out of your system.
Because it helps you gain clarity.
And because sometimes, insights emerge. Not necessarily in the words on the page. But due to the fact that you’re writing the words on the page.
Stream Of Consciousness journaling is writing. Venting. Self-therapy. Problem-solving. Meditation. Goal-setting. Creative liberation. And anything else you want it to be.
Because you have all of that in you already – if only you’d re-learn to listen.
And listening to yourself, it turns out, is much easier when you put it all on the page.
Before I learned not to listen
I would stand
seemingly still
but secretly swaying
swallowed up by a willow tree
and its play with the windBefore I learned not to listen
I would hold my head against the rind
reach
reconnect with an old friend
the way it has always felt best
cheek pressed to chestBefore I learned not to listen
a breeze in the leaves
rustling ruminating
would sound like raindrops in my ears
making my eyes answer
with a torrent of tearsBefore I learned not to listen
a rolling thunder
thumping like a beating heart
would rumble from my cheek to my ear
replacing my fear
with a memory I used to held dear
we were never really apartBefore I learned not to listen
before the lust for language
reduced what I could see
and sense within
I would allow the whispers of the wordless world
speak to me like kinBefore I learned not to listen
Lukas Van Vyve
I would accept
that once upon a time
I remembered your name
and once upon a time we both knew
we were one and all the same
feigned feelings lead to forced forging
of a bond, brittle, easily brokenbut when i learn to listen
to the winds whirling within
stop seeing them as a sinwhen i hold them back no more
forceful feelings finally roar
revealing a hidden song
sung secretly for so longmy true self set free
softly I breathe
my melody into your mind
feelings mingle, sometimes grind
leaving the shyness far behindand hearing our songs entwined
I am no longer blind
to the insight
that we’ve been singing the same song
of a wordless world where we all belongat last I feel strong
Lukas Van Vyve
for we were always one
blessed by a bond
that can’t be undone
The other day you asked about my favorite words.
But what I really want to write about is my favorite questions.
Because as much as words can spark imagination, questions are what steer the mind – to good places or bad.
Consider this one:
“Why do I always give up when I start a new habit?“
This presupposes that I always give up and will ask my brain to come up with reasons (and excuses) to justify and perpetuate that behavior.
And off I go, finding excuses for behavior, thus perpetuation.
“Look at all the reasons I found for behaving this way. I may not like it, but I guess this is who I am.”
Why would you send your mind there… If you could also ask yourself a question like:
“What would it feel like if I were already writing and publishing every day?”
How would I feel about myself…
How would I look at myself?
What would I say, what would I create… How would I act?
Which obstacles would I have conquered?
Which excuses would have become irrelevant, making me shake my head, saying to myself, “How did I ever let that stop me?”
And just like that, with my imagination set free
internal resistance melting away
off I go
finally becoming who I’ve always wanted to be.
P.S: If you MUST ask the “Why do I always…” questions, at least use them to justify and perpetuate positive behavior.
Why do I always wake up and immediately write three pages stream of consciousness?
P.P.S.: Alright then, one more question to think (or journal) about:
Where am I perpetuating a situation or habit I say I don’t want but I secretly cling to because it feels comfortable and has become part of my identity?
If you wouldn’t see overwhelming results in your first 30 days of writing, working out, dieting, or learning an instrument, would you still show up?
Are you okay with small, almost invisible gains because the process of learning, creating, practicing is fulfilling enough in itself?
And if not, could you be okay with that, if you knew it was the key to learning or creating anything you ever wanted?
Come what may, you will be okay.
You can trust yourself.
Breathe in, breathe out.
Then go on with your day.