It's been too long, she says. My muse, she waits...

Blogging has been a wonderful refuge for my soul over the past 13 years*; it's a place I've come to sometimes frequently, sometimes sporadically. It's been a heady combination of restraint and release, of emotions and humour, of fact and fiction, of the banal and the profound. My eternal lover, comfortable old friend, giddy new crush, wise mentor, goofy pal, sounding board, 3 am friend all rolled into one.

I've written here feverishly through quiet, white nights, and stayed away during dark, blue days and weeks that have often stretched into months. I've been piqued by the thoughts of distant, intriguing minds and been kissed by the frail beauty of human relationships. If the kindness of strangers has touched me, it's also the cold indifference of loved ones that has slapped me in the face.

I've poured myself out here and through my words sometimes, revealed thoughts I wasn't even aware I had. If real life made me bite my lip or turned me into the queen of staircase wit once too often, it was always the blog that I turned to. I've talked to it in excited, breathless tones like Daddy's little girl, and I've hesitantly unmasked my feelings like a lovesick fool. Here in the confined openness, I have shared delights and wounds in equal measures. Of how I see the world and how the world looks back at me. Here in this quiet unknown corner, I've cut my clouds and refueled my soul.

Blogging for me, has been like the mirror that both masks and reflects, and the lamp that both snuffs out and burns. Sometimes I come here wanting to say nothing and leave behind surprising revelations, sometimes I come here loaded and disappear with just the hint of a whisper. Or sometimes, I come here just to make sense of what's going on inside my mind and all around me.

Then there are those magical times when I'm so consumed with the passion of an idea that I garner the courage to go down on my knees and ask for the world. My lovely lady then responds with a slight nod of her head and her plump red lips beckoning, resplendent in the shadow of the moon. She gently takes my face in her hands and brings her lips to mine, as the clear bright spot on her finger catches the light.

It's the sublime consummation of mind and muse, of desire and discipline, of intent and action. It's the comforting knowledge that, in pain lies beauty and with beauty, beds pain. And that somewhere along the periphery, dance the fireflies that illuminate even those unfinished lives.

*Updated on April 13, 2016

The Cloudcutter


Guyana-Gyal said...

Your muse is awake. Look at what she's helped you to write here! This is one of the finest pieces about blogging that I've read in a long time.

Should I beg you to start writing those film scripts which you so badly need to write or should I come to India and grab you by the scruff of your neck, tie you to the chair and force you to write? :-)

Pat said...

I agree with GG. A fine piece I would have been proud to write myself.

Joe Pinto said...

My dear CC,

Thank you for this insight on why you blog.

Many of my journalism students want to know why they should start their own blog.

Here is an answer, beautifully composed with passion, which may appeal to those who are sensitive and frank as you are, CC.

Peace and love,
- Joe.

The Cloudcutter said...

Thank you all, you are too kind!

@GG - the second choice please :P

Guyana-Gyal said...

Okay, lemme just earn that airfare :-D

The knife said...

Too long indeed :)

Sheer Almshouse said...

"Here in the confined openness, I have shared delights and wounds in equal measures."- Beautiful

Himanshu Tandon said...

Been a while since I got around to your blog and I must say that this has been one of your best till date.

Love your writing just as ever...Thanks for threading words as beautifully as that.