In the past, I have found it damnably easy to wrap cowardice and ignorance in the trappings of spiritualism, idealism, or intellectualism.  So this is why I find it incredibly important to constantly assess whether my outlook on life is functional and fulfilling, for if life is the greatest teacher, then I am of the opinion that it will present evidence/arguments as to whether I’m learning the lesson.  In my experience, I’ve seen that if I choose to ignore these lessons, I will be reminded gently at first, but with increasing mercilessness, that I should address my problems before they define my very being.

In my opinion, one of the greatest freedoms in life is the ability to put on a grim face, to give whatever you’re doing a 100%, to focus every iota of being on overcoming an obstacle…all the while laughing on the inside and enjoying every second of it, knowing full well that in a matter of decades, you’ll be dust in the wind.

From what I’ve seen, it seems that when people commit to believing in something, it becomes very difficult—painful, even—to entertain the notion that they might be wrong.  But IMHO, it is the willingness to accept this difficulty and pain that drives innovation and honest inquiry.  I believe this willingness to engage in thought experiments—however unpopular they might be—could arguably fit the definition of intellectual courage.

I started out writing for others, but then I realized somewhere along the line that I was writing for myself as well, but not in what seems to be the typical sense—in the interest of catharsis or self-expression (although those have been nice side benefits).  In my mind, the most important benefit I derive from writing is much the same as if I was engaging myself in mental jiu-jitsu, endlessly challenging myself to make my transitions smoother, my statements quicker, more decisive, my defenses and positioning stronger and tighter.  It’s not an external opponent I seek to submit, but my own ignorance and lack of clarity.  If I get rich through this venture, then that too, will be a nice side benefit, but I believe that the real treasure behind writing is forcing myself to think clearly enough to inscribe worlds onto the wellsof potentiality that we call a “blank page,” so that readers can partake of and enjoy my vision.  Perhaps they don’t get to see the frustrating hours of editing that I go through, and perhaps—much like a jiu-jitsu match—they only fixate on the high points in the story, but it doesn’t matter; the process of writing forces me to become sharper, to iterate faster, and to know myself better.  

So yeah, I guess you could say that I write for myself.  😊

Say that age-old mystical premise is true—the one where we’re pieces of an all-powerful being that has purposefully forgotten its power so that it can experience the joy of rediscovering it.  If that premise is true, then every horror and joy we volunteer to experience/witness is much like going to a movie where we volunteer to be terrified or uplifted.  If that premise is true, then we will eventually reach the end of this movie and rediscover our power, implying that right now, we are all stuck in a momentarily horrifying or awesome “no-lose” game.  

That’s my take on:  “It’ll all be okay in the end.”

Once basic needs are met (in the context of Maslow), it becomes incredibly apparent that discipline equals freedom:  the discipline to deny cravings, or engage in pleasure without compulsion; the discipline to adopt a trend, or contemplate the subversive; the discipline to do what you hate, celebrate what you love, or vice versa in either scenario; the discipline to strategize, or lose yourself in the present.  Discipline is not simply denial, but also acceptance.  To me it’s a targeted action/state-of-mind that allows me to get things done, then sleep at night when I have nothing else to do. 

Discipline will allow you to step wisely, to enjoy fully, and to live life in the manner you wish.  Yeah, I’d definitely say that discipline equals freedom.

My formula for good writing is:  prudent use of letters + spacing = telepathic transmission of the fantastical.

In the event you can’t find that perfected, codified methodology that allows you to become the person you want to be…

You could always make one up yourself.

In my experience, writing about the fantastic is predicated on a willingness to dive into the unknown.  Few things are as thrilling as channeling unfamiliar concepts and worlds through my mind.  While I humble myself by openly admitting “I don’t know,” I embolden myself by saying, “I’m willing to try.”