Lamplight Rumination
In a struggle to conjure up some fanciful, catchy titles to engage my readers, I sat still in silence, surrounded by my furry miscreants (others prefer the word ‘cats’) with nothing but the soft yellow illumination of my table lamp.
Sometimes, it’s not so easy to think of an appealing title… Sometimes it’s for the best.
This piece is not some expansive guide on a new-age problem nor a money-making maniacal, formulaic, tutorial. No, it’s something far less complex; this is just a pleasant stream of thoughts written by a man in his twenties, burdened by worldly responsibilities, finding peace in the darkness of his cave (others prefer the word ‘room’), writing his musings in hopes that some other lonesome reader will find kinship in his words and discover their own abode of peace.
I believe in God. I do not understand how anyone with a cognizant mind fails to when he gazes upon the cosmos or finds sanctuary in nature’s green. Being a Muslim, I am encouraged to explore the world and understand the closest path to Him. At the end of the day, I am no more than a mere human, made of dust, with many failings and few little successes. I sin, although I try not to, and I do good, although many times I don’t wish to.
There is a certain fulfilment in the struggle. To reiterate an overused age-old adage,
“It is the journey, not the destination, that counts.”
Who comes up with these folksy bits of wisdom anyway? They sound wise, and perhaps they are, or perhaps they were still musings by another lamplight raconteur captured by some passer-by and sent off in circulation through the grapevine.
The yellow light is pleasant…It is gentle. It’s not harsh like the sun nor awakening like daylight. It is still, peaceful, and calm. A scientist would whine about the blabbering mysticism and point out that they are emissions of photons at a particular frequency. Unfortunately for you, we are creatives, my friend; in our line of work, sometimes we have to abandon common sense for a sense of wonder and mystery.
There’s a cool breeze in the air, owing to a modern innovation (guess the allegory), and if I desire something natural, I’d have to be prepared to take on the bloodsuckers that roam the nights. No, not vampires. Mosquitoes! We are not that drenched in fantastical worldbuilding….or are we?
No, probably not, although I do sometimes wish certain elements of fantasy were true. Imagine being able to harness the power of the winds and skies with your fingers. As history has proven time and again, power corrupts man, and it is for the best that the most wind we can harness is through windmills and not our wills.
Childhood was much simpler, when completing a month-long homework just 3 hours before school was the biggest worry on our minds. We could leave the financial troubles to our parents; be in the most abject poverty and yet find ourselves ignorant of those troubles; play hide-and-seek to hide away in our dreams; be naive without consequences; be hopeful without dread; be punished without hurt; be loved without expectations.
Yes, childhood was much simpler, but it must end so that a new chapter can begin. I do not regret the troubles of adulthood. They are inevitabilities that I realized I must mature up for very early on. It hasn’t made it any easier, but I am at peace with the struggle.
A friend messaged me complaining of his troubles just now, asking for advice. What advice does he expect from someone beleaguered by his own sorrows? Poor soul him and poor soul I.
But wait, I have a meticulously crafted mask. The mask is confident, eloquent, forthcoming, wise, and well-rounded. It’s invulnerable to cracks. I often use it when I step out into the warzone (others prefer the word ‘world’). It’s an effective weapon and it has never failed. I must make more.
Conclusion
What began as an attempt to write a masterful piece centered on a specific topic transitioned into a train of thoughts that was given free rein to roam the paper landscape.
Free-form writing can be a cathartic exercise, using the lines in between to unleash pent-up thoughts, regulate difficult-to-process emotions, or create a narrative around an amalgam of random word clouds, giving structure to a formless entity in your mind by making it coherent.
Sometimes, as a writer, the best writing exercise is to let your creativity take hold and imagination run wild. But let’s halt here. Enough of my ravings for you. Now you must let your own thoughts lead the chariot.
