A Conversation with my Mind

In trying to figure out why my creative inertia disappears whenever I attempt any topic of a serious nature (or any project that requires consistency and more than an hour of effort) I decided to have a candid keyboard conversation with myself. Here it is:

"What I don’t understand is what the block is and where it comes from. I can write at will and dance across letters and topics and give the illusion of cohesion for the appropriate amount of time to appear coherent. But let me go for too long – or turn me on to a serious topic – and suddenly it’s clear I have no business being in the ring.

I’ve observed the obdurate nature and the design of the limits of my output. It’s as if a wall exists; imagine two points, one on this side, one on the other, and in between , forming the dividing line, is a wall of opacity. To see through it would take audacity and veracity of thought. It would take an attack.

I could sidestep the wall. It would be easy. Change tack, use a “workaround.” I’m sure there are many. I’m sure this has happened to others. I’m sure I could pick up a finger or two and then set them down along a keyboard and perform a search, looking to the advice of others. That works for many other parts of my life. I have consigned to the beauty of referential problem solving to find the answers to many of my problems. How to fix a broken faucet. How to make friends at a cocktail party. How to burn a hole through an ant with a magnifying glass. The answer to any of these can be found immediately.

So it follows that I could find what I need, if I wanted to. Immediately. I could find straight-forward instruction and advice on how to break a brain barrier. But that would rob my brain the ability to try and solve the problem on its own, and that’s exactly the problem. My brain needs it.

It craves that attention. That constant, pervasive thought that nothing is going to get done if I don’t do it. But existing simultaneously, the dichotomous, traitorous inkling: if I do that which needs to be done, there will be nothing left to do but wait for the next problem to come along. I would have to live in the moment. And that sounds like a risky proposition.

Given this, it is clear that what I need to do is simply convince myself that I’m being illogical and trust that the end result of my letting go of the need to have something to control will be a great and beneficial thing. To appeal to “benefits” is a crafty approach, as my personality, if not my brain, is built around the drive to acquire benefit. In that, the way I think, I think, is very primal.

But still, I refuse to step around the wall. I am not going to “knock down barriers” or “leap hurdles.” Instead, I'll “break protocol” and acknowledge the issue. The issue is: I crave the challenge but need the failure. I hold on to the failure. For if I let go of the failures: the failure to sink my teeth in, the aversion to create expectation of future perfection, the failure to failure, then I will be a whole new person.

I will suddenly be able to decide. No longer will I have to consider the opposition to each personal decision. Yes, I admit, it is vitally important to note close oppositional views in certain instances. To ignore 2^nd and 3^rd place would be to lose vital information. But in certain cases, ignorance in excellence. It is time to react. Internally, self-doubt needs to cease to exist. I need to discern the best instance of every instant and act upon that knowledge. Everything else is simply a distraction."