Home > Uncategorized > Ghost Whispers in the Echo Chamber

Ghost Whispers in the Echo Chamber

Sometimes I write just for its own sake. It is a skill that needs practice. Other times, I think I am writing for a cause, but usually I am really just angry at something and I am not so much serving a cause as I am myself. I have descended into mundane punditry on more occasions than I am comfortable with…

Why do I do this then? First to conceive, then to think so highly of my conception that it merits articulation, dissemination, and permanence… is that what it really is about, the permanence, the irreconcilable death-fear, the denial of my own mortality?

Is the fear of death or the denial of our mortality really the basis for all action and expression?

I suppose that I am trying to cultivate a modicum of self-discipline for myself by doing something that I don’t wholeheartedly agree with, for its own sake rather than for a reward, however discrete or abstract that reward may be.

Writing on a blank page allows me to create something over which I have complete control… an appealing proposition to anyone, not only the “creative types”.

The question to ask myself should be what is the purpose of my audience. They keep you accountable but they are also a first exposure to judgement; but as soon as you start caring about the judgement, you lose touch with your subject and content. The true purpose of the writing must be the words itself. The words themselves are a representation of truth, the most abstract of philosophical concepts and also the most ideal. Truth is the ideal that everything measures against: words, actions, subject, object.

Nothing is entirely true but has certain aspirations towards truth, and strength of these aspirations is what we feel as the emotional resonance of something, whether a simple statement or a great artist’s magnum opus.

This is an accord with myself to write better, to find more truth, to not focus on the WHY but the WHAT.

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