This is the third blog post I've begun in two weeks! I started writing a "fake" blog as a Word document back in early March to see whether my writing muse had returned from her 18-month hiatus. I wanted to chronicle how lessons learned through Qigong manifested in my everyday life—a sort of road map of changes in perceptions, emotional responses, thought processes etc.
Initially, ideas and words gushed like the Gulf of Mexico oil spill. For the first time since mid 2008 I got so engrossed in writing that time whizzed by without me playing Scrabble on Facebook or getting up to pluck chin hairs or make tea. The first six posts took a few hours each—an Olympic record compared to the agonizing days and weeks I spent producing a few desultory paragraphs two years ago. Or endlessly rejigging even the simplest email.
Those first "fake" blogs needed little editing. Thanks to Sifu H's constant remonstrations to "simplify your mind, your thoughts, your words," I stopped inserting my trademark flowery descriptions just for the sake of it. Short and to the point, I admonished myself. Seemingly, the formula worked. "I'm back!" I crowed, hugely relieved and proud of myself. I conveniently neglected to notice my burgeoning attachment to being a famous blog writer.
Flushed with ego, I told myself, "Why not write a "real" blog?" I presented Sifu H with the idea, which he immediately nixed. "What's the point?" he asked over the phone, wondering who I was writing a blog for and to what purpose.
"It'll be useful to me," I insisted. "if it helps me trust in my writing abilities again." He didn't buy this explanation but for once I didn't heed his advice.
I futzed around for a week setting up the blog. I loved figuring out how to change HTML code to widen the post margins, playing around with background colors and trolling for photos on Google images. On 20 March I took the six "fake" entries live on Qigong for Neurotics and announced my existence on the blogosphere to a few dozen friends. The next half dozen posts flowed easily too. I was ecstatic!
I told myself I didn't care what anyone else thought about the blog, though I did start running potential posts by my good friend and fellow blogger YC. Supposedly impervious to others' reactions, I still glowed inside when he praised the writing. Over the last few months his own blog, Slightly Pixelated, has evolved from a dispassionate analysis of the Thai political situation to a very personal and powerful chronicle of his feelings about current events. (I watched myself grow envious and jealous of his ability to express his emotions so succinctly.)
As blogging became increasingly cathartic for YC, it's become increasingly onerous for me. A post about a weekend meditation retreat in early May turned into a major whinge about the venue, the visiting monk, the food and my fellow meditators. I spent days on it before deleting it. I can fool myself that someone might enjoy reading about a transforming neurotic, but nobody wants a litany of complaints from a Qigong backslider. The last post, Home Alone, took nearly a week to write. (I predated it back to 21 May to give it a semblance of timeliness.)
My road map of transformation has hit a road block of self-doubt, self-criticism, comparison and negativity. Perhaps I'm not destined to write a blog that turns into a #1 bestseller after all. Or perhaps this entire yes-I-can, no-I-can't drama just underlines the impermanent nature of success. Or failure. According to Sifu H, navel-gazing psychodrama blogs are all about illusions anyhow.
Yesterday I started Qigong, round #5. Besides reconnecting with my dan tien, learning how power comes from relaxing not forcing, and getting over the "I Me Mine" mentality (not the Beatles song), hopefully I'll figure out how to write from my heart.
