Writing is the art of creating something out of nothing.
Stringing together carefully constructed sentences in order to tell a story. To paint a picture.
I am often tormented by my inability to write. It’s there constantly in my mind. The torment that is. I think, and think, and think, and think.
What can I write about that is interesting?
I’m not particularly interested in current affairs or politics. I don’t watch much tv.
Religion is something I’m on the fence about. No. Scratch that. I have very strong opinions on organised religion. I’m on the fence about a God and whether he or she exists. Even that part I’m lying about. The “he or she” statement that is. If there is a God, it is a man in my opinion.
I’m also crap with writing about fashion. I love fashion. Love it. But I couldn’t write about it.
What would I say?
“I’m beside myself with giddiness over Burberrys new season trench coat. As I watched the models strutting their stuff down the catwalk, I fully appreciated the vision and craftsmanship that went into creating such a unique tailored piece”
No. Not for me. And I’ve never been to a runway show. Well, I’ve been to one. For Mara Hoffman in LA. But I’m not a fashion expert and in no way should I be dishing up advice on something I really know nothing about.
So here I sit, pondering an interesting topic to write about.
I find inspiration hits at some point and I’m able to connect to my creativity. The universe sends something my way and my brain lights up.
I get a text message come through from my mother. And so it begins.
I hate mangoes.
I find everyone hates one fruit.
I have a friend who hates bananas. Another who hates apples.
There’s always one fruit we don’t like, and there’s generally a reason behind it too.
So I hate mangoes.
My Dad was across the road at his friends house. I was quite young at the time. I grabbed a mango from the fruit bowl, and I walked to the end of the driveway and called out to him.
“Hey Dad! How do I eat this?”
He squinted to see what I was holding in my hand. He had no idea what it was so he took a stab in the dark and gave me an answer.
“Just like that!” he called back.
“Ok!” I answered and skipped back into the house.
And so I ate the mango. Skin and all. Which has led to a life long aversion as a result.
I also don’t eat sausages. I hate them. But that came from a hot dog I ate once in circa 1992. I was violently ill from it and have not touched one since. And I find the whole idea of them repugnant.
Also in circa 1992, I stumbled across a bag of honey roasted peanuts in a cupboard that my mum had hidden away.
Later on that evening after having eaten the entire bag, at around midnight during the onset of projectile vomiting, I went to the rubbish bin to inspect the use by date on the packaging.
“Best before June 1987”
So, where’s the lesson I hear you ask?
I suppose check use by dates is the first one. And perhaps ask the right person the right question. Or at least show them what you’ve got. I think that’s the most important thing.
But this is where it all ties in nicely.
When you’re physically ill from eating something bad, where do you get the feeling?
In your gut.
When you get a strong reaction to another person, where do you get the feeling?
In your gut.
I think there’s only three places we truly experience things.
Our mind, our heart, and our gut.
The one tricky thing to do is to be able to connect them all.
Our logic, our emotions, and our intuition.
With the nuts for instance, if I used my logic (my mind), instead of just using my emotions (my heart) to want the nuts at any cost, then my intuition (my gut) wouldn’t have been blindsided and I would have saved myself an evening spent hovering over a toilet bowl.
Sounds simple right?
Not so much.
You know I often speak in riddles and am the contradiction queen.
Connecting to your intuition is a funny thing. Sometimes, the heart wants what it wants, and no amount of logic, or intuition is going to be able to stop you.
I think we all need to follow our hearts. It’s our life source after all. People can live without their brain functioning properly. People can live without their guts functioning properly. But your heart? Not at all.
It’s what keeps our blood flowing, what ignites and fuels our passion. What drives us.
So go after the things you want. You might end up sick. You might end up getting hurt. In fact, you might end up heartbroken.
But life is all about experiences. So go ahead, and follow your heart. Follow your deepest passion and desire.
Whichever way you look at it, your experience will be undeniably unforgettable in every sense of the word. And it will leave a lasting effect.