For a while now, I have wondered what was missing in my life. I had tried to work hard and learn as much as I could about Slovakia and the life that is about to begin. But I forgot my most favorite pleasure, of writing what is on my mind.
For some of us the calling of what we love to do isn’t there, or at least not yet. It comes slowly like a soft rain, calling from the sky above it rests upon our head, endorphins flowing, and makes us feel that we have a reason to be on this world, to be alive in a place that features the baneful over the pleasureful.
Then it hides, to allow us to feel the extent of losing its touch, absence making the heart grow fonder, and yet our brain yearns for something more, whether intellectual, spiritual or both.
Yet what we love doing can be more than that; it can be so much more. It can fill our minds with desires, fears and confusion. It disables our rational brain to focus on the feelings of true solace – of not wanting to do anything else in a given moment.
It frees procrastination, it erases doubt, it forbids sadness and it enhances self-confidence and self-esteem.
It makes you one with your mind. Nothing is of importance than what you are doing.
There is no purer thought, without any distraction or pollution at its final blossoming.
I may speak in tongues, or in words far superior than ones used previously, but it is only my mind speaking, unhindered by trepidation, hesitation and guilt, it roams freely across the page, in an everlasting throng of self-worth.
My writing may confuse, but it will be only for those that have not reached their passion, that will to do something amazing in one’s life.
And I for one enjoy this ecstatic, yet strangely enlightening course of events.
For lack of a better term – I have discovered the pure joy of writing one’s mind.