What started as a writing practice has evolved, over the year, into a moment of introspection.
Every morning I turn my gaze inside to see what’s going on.
Some times what I find is a reflection of what’s happening outside. Other times I discover some emerging ideas, those are exciting trips. There are mornings in which I lose myself in my own darkness, unable to spot anything useful.
And there are times in which I find nothing.
I’ve learned that the way of introspection it’s a slippery one.
The more I go down inside, the more it becomes hard to see, and in the darkness, it’s easy to stumble and fall on things I can’t see. So, I begin to make up stuff, only to come back into the light.
What starts as a quest for truth, can quickly become a feel-good exercise.
There lies my reason for writing.
This blank page is my rope back to reality. It reminds me that at some point, no matter what I find or don’t find, I need to resurface.
And go on with my day.
With or without answers.