Take rest; a field that has rested gives a bountiful crop.

Ovid

I hope that I moved back so as to be able to jump further ahead. I pressed the reset button to start all over again from the place where I should have really begin when I first started my creative-writing adventure. I am now preparing myself to move ahead, to walk out of this lazy and blurry winter, so as to finally step in those summer days that fill me with warm, enthusiasm, and light. 

This time, compared to my last desertion from the webhosphere, when I ebbed away from the web-shore I was instilled with the rage and want to clearly see what I was doing wrong, and what steps I missed since I began. And to gain that kind of clarity, I needed to completely immerse myself again in all of my texts, to concentrate so as to extract all of the information I needed about why I seem stuck on the same level of the write-biz, why I am unable to move ahead. Eventually, during that getaway, I discovered all the monstrosities that I’ve engendered😂… horrible, terrible, obscene, disgusting work, the contrary of what’s artistic. I had peepoo in my eyes, my ego lied to me — that uncontrollable little impetuous over-cherished child that likes to head towards the deep vast sea without listening to mama reason, and there in this vast ocean we drowned, and we were eaten by the creatures of the sea.

But still, I can’t reject my little monsters, for they came out from the womb of my head, their placenta is still linked to me, they are my pride. Thus I decided to arm myself with patience and determination so as to mould them again into something more readable, beautiful, and artistic; and I am trying harder to listen to mama reason, all the while taming my ego. I don’t think that it’s the end of the world for me after I’ve published such type of erroneous work, for at least I have work on which I can now practice my editing skills. I only was incorrect about the difference between writing and editing, and where it’s only recently that I learned that it’s editing that makes all the difference in the making of a readable piece.

Thus recently I’ve been going through my books and my blog posts again, and it’s hard for me to face the truth of my failures, to accept the fact that those things that I’ve written with love are filled with so much imperfections. And I just can’t stop asking myself if whether it was too much passion that blinded me to the point of believing that I write well, or was it simply madness, or was I under that self-hypnotic effect, which was a consequence of my self-affirmation practices. Whatever! The damage is already done. I should really feel embarrassed to have published such lowly work, but I guess that for that part I’ll keep my ego tightly tied to me😤. 

Right now the future seems so obscure. We are in the midst of something that’s beyond us, in the grip of disasters, diseases, distress, destructions. It keeps falling, everything seems to converge to a point of no return, and yet, here I am, still pushing myself towards a bright future, going boldly where the change begins, keeping faith that these situations will eventually come to an end. Thus I grind and remain utterly positive, I continue my way regardless of the situation, knowingly that everything is being taken care of. The cosmic entity Kryon🪐 tells us through the messenger(channeller) Lee Carroll that ‘old ways won’t open new doors’, a cycle ends, it’s the grand shift, things are evolving, and we need to adapt to that change… and I really hope that I am on the right tract, that this thing about going within is really working, I really believe in that quantum🕸 thing.  

Here, I would have also like to tell you that during these days where I was alternately a writing consultant, a creative manager, a writing coach, and an editor, I eventually acquired excellent, and general standard writing and editing skills, developed the perfect writing style, or even ameliorated my grammar, prose, and speed of writing… but it was not the case. However, what I gained was perception, the ability to spot these embarrassing errors of mine, to notice my writing weaknesses, and to develop personal techniques that can help me edit my own writings. I’ve also discovered my new type of picture aesthetic, which I hope to stick with for a long time. It’s not at all easy for me to practice my writing and editing skills rigorously, for my time is so limited. I am always disturbed when I am focusing, and that breaks my creative flow… but how to explain that what I am doing is important, that it is work, that it’s something that I’m trying to achieve so as to secure my future. And there are no creative boosters and insposcape to keep me inspired all the time, no serene escape that can instantly put me in a creative mental state. But I am trying very hard to make all of that thing work, and I need to keep reminding myself that what I am now doing is a work in progress, that it’s only a little flower that’s slowly making its way up from the soil.

While going through my work again I couldn’t help myself from thinking, “how many more times will I continue to make a fool out of myself before I decide to give up”. I want to give up, but I can’t. I can’t because I haven’t tried enough. Also the fear that again I might be wrong keeps nagging me, the fear that I’ve wrongly self-analysed all my work, that my books and blog posts are complete 🤬, that it’s again my ego, that what I am doing is considered as being too crazy, or that myself I’m considered as a mad woman… and I don’t want to have fear or have any doubts, for fear and doubts are dream killers, they murder any glint of light that lives in one’s heart. But I refuse to give up until I’ve seen the end of it, even if in the end I’ll be like a moth that dies in flames. 

I moved back to gain clarity, and clarity is what I got, of that I am sure. My writing style is not perfect, my English is not perfect, it’s not first class English, but compared to my first publications, which can be qualified as peepoo English, I think that I have now attained the writing artistry that I wanted to acquire as a non-English speaker, that is, to write in an English that could be qualified as exotic, to be a good translator of the Mauritian-Creole language — because that’s all that I am doing right now, translating my thoughts into English.

The English that I wrote before was rather unintelligible, for the syntax language was quite messy — I had dust in the eyes, and I don’t want to have rubbish in my eyes when I am editing my own work. Most autodidact and self-employed Creatives don’t need editors (people that I respect) or any other critics (which are also clearly very important people) to look at their art so as to get validation, or the right confidence to present their work to the world. They work instinctively, almost automatically, and have attained such a degree of mastery that they are able to develop that steel-like  confidence and optimism that liberate themselves, and their work from the fear of deceiving, and making a fool out of themselves. That’s what I really want, to not care about what they think, and only care about the happiness that arises inside of me when I write, or when I simply do things that I like and love, for I think that the moment you are doing that something with love and passion, a sort of chemical reaction takes place, something extraordinary is set in motion, and everything then fits and flows perfectly. You just got to do your best at doing what you are doing, and the rest shall follow.