The world outside is chaotic recently, with the situation in Paris being well covered, I will not address it here, far wiser minds than I have already given their thoughts on the matter so I see no benefit in me giving an opinion only formed from information gleamed from the media.
Today’s topic is going to be addressing something quite close to my heart, which might go some way to explain the meaning of my previous blog, containing the poem, Hidden. Ever since a child, I have had a very over active mind, not so much in terms of imagination (though I did have a rather active one there as well as a child) but in terms of thought procession, a trend that continues to this day.
Allow to elaborate, at any given moment, my mind has continually, what seems like a thousand thoughts at the same time, which often causes me to go into a whole bunch on tangents when in a conversation, or even miss vital bits of that conversation. It also causes me to over think the most simple of tasks, whilst making the most complicated of tasks beautifully simple.
This has often impacted my daily life ever since I was a child, whilst it does allow for bursts in creativity, it also means that I find myself getting bored easily with concepts and not following them through, this has cost me both personally and professionally, and affected my education when I was growing up.
There has been times where I just wish I could hide away from the confines of my own mind, which is what I was alluding to by having my hood lowered down over my face whilst hiding in the shadows. Other times I have wondered whether I am merely in the process of going insane, which I alluded to in terms of the never ending storm.
There was something else I alluded to in Hidden, which referred to the fact that I can honestly say that I have no idea of my true purpose in life or what constitutes my identity in the line “I try to make sense, to formulate a coherent line, to make sense of this madness that’s eternally mine…”
The subject of my identity and purpose is something that I struggle with to this very day, and I feel this is what causes me to struggle to find a career that would be suited to me or I would really enjoy. It is a source of endless frustration which has me constantly thinking, which then adds to my thousand and one thoughts that keep zinging around in my mind. Mental Chaos, as I stated within the poem Hidden.
So there you have it, an insight into how Hidden came to be, and perhaps a further insight into what makes me tick, I’m certain as long as these thoughts continue without respite, is as long as I shall continue to be haunted by my thoughts, and in turn, be able to allow my emotions to flow in a rhythmic flow. Poetry is often for me the release, and the very cause, of my mental chaos.