Writing a blog post is a funny sort of thing. Throughout the day I scout for relevant, meaningful, communicable thoughts. Now I wonder: what is the style of my blog? Should it be personal stories? Professional information? Or about my creative process as a somatic movement teacher?
All the while I know that – first of all – this is a practice for myself rather than for anyone else – and secondly – every day, the moment I start to write, all my planing and scouting falls to pieces. Right from its start, the blog post develops a life on its own, and demands to be treated as such.
Strangely, the writing always brings forth things that I have not planed to write at all. Does it bring forth things that were hidden? Or things that were actively in hiding? Now drawn to light through the process of writing? How much is hidden inside of me then? And where else is it coming from? The Internet? My immediate environment? Or, does it bring forth things that are inside of you, who is reading this? Is there a magical connection between you and me, some sort of beautiful, quantum mechanic interminglement that casts life into these posts?
Or is writing more like embodied thinking? Conscious and active. A cognitive process that makes new connections and creates meaning? An internal conversation between different perspectives, a give-and-take between mind and „paper”, resulting in an etched out flight of diction, that now lies prey to being read by anyone who stumbles upon it?
It is a funny sort of thing. A strange thing. Delightful, too. More again tomorrow.