During a psychedelic experience I had as a teenager, It came to Mind that I must write, to which I verbally responded with, “All right/I’ll write.”
Alas, I didn’t write. The unconscious resistance I emitted from within my being pulled and pushed this meat vessel toward everything but writing (physically), and that went on for years.
Now, one can say the living that took place during my non-writing may serve as significantly meaningful material with which to write, and I think I might have an inclination to agree with that.
Still, the neglect of that skill has brought me to a state of regression in the mind which impedes upon my ability to organize thoughts. So, it excites me to find myself engaging in and gravitating toward journaling [almost] daily.
picrel: these tumblr filters are pretty cool
