Why write

I asked myself this question today: why write?

Why write at all if I generate 1000 words per minute with ChatGPT? Why write at all if no one will ever read it? Why write…?

The answer to all of this — my answer to all of this — is: because it helps me think and organize my thoughts.

The point of writing is not to finish the articles, essay or poem, it is to go through the process of structuring your messy thoughts and putting them onto paper — so to speak — in more or less coherent form.

In this way, writing is like therapy — self-therapy.

I can externalize parts of myself that live only inside my head, put these parts into words and paragraphs and then examine them objectively: is this really what I think?

A subsequent question that arises from the first may then be: why publish?

Why publish my messy ramblings that have been dumped from my brain onto paper? Why bother?

And to be fair, I don’t have a good answer to this second question…

All that I know is that I’ve decided to put more of myself, of my thoughts and my energy out there into the world.

What will come of it? I don’t know.

All I know is this: creation is holy. And by that, I mean the act of creation itself.

In the beginning, God created heaven and earth; and he saw that is was good. Why was it good? Because something was created instead of nothing!

We are beings — human beings — blessed with the power (and responsibility) to create. In a way, it is our most sacred duty to this world. But the act of creation can take many shapes and forms:

It can be as simple as preparing a meal, sketching with pen and paper, playing a few harmonious chords. Or it can be as primal as sex, the act of creation itself.

Only in the process of creation can we lose our human selves and become gods for a fleeting moment in time. We can taste the forbidden fruit of Eden, just for a second, before being cast down again into the world of pain and pleasures.

At least, all of this is what I tell myself when I feel — most of the time — inadequate to create anything of substance.

At least, at the very least, I’m participating in the sublime cosmic ritual of creation itself. And thought alone keeps me company during my journey into darkness (unknown).

Photo by Unseen Studio on Unsplash