Recreational Time



Sometimes, there are times when all that you want to say, to express and put on loudspeaker grinds to a halt.

There are times when you want to tap the keyboard, but the fingers refuse to dance according to the number in your head.

When you want to move the pen, but the effort of the tool mightier than the sword falls proves stronger than the will in your heart.

You know what you want, what you willed to happen, to come out, to be shared.

And yet...

And yet.

Sometimes, I, you, all of us, experience what many of the world term as a creative block. In essence, the art of putting down on paper or in getting across the message is blunted by...what, exactly? Nothing discernible that can be abolished immediately. Nothing that can be seen to be swatted away like the annoying fly that it is.


And yet.

Creative block is wrong. Not wrong in the sense that it is not right (which would actually be right, thus making it wrong to begin with), but in the sense that creation, in itself, is false. The term misleads us, telling us that what we're coming up with is new, revolutionary, never before seen in that fashion. Which is true.

But false, for it is not new. It is not revolutionary, and it most certainly is not fashionable. It is, in actuality, a mere re-amalgamation of the things that we have previously known (and in some cases, loved). The art of creating something is drawn upon the inspirations and truths surrounding us in our very lives.

A single phrase provokes a movie. A single entire song.

Thus, the origin of anything and everything in the world is not original. Thus, that which we are only that which we are merely re-creating. We're not magicians, conjuring heartfelt words like birds from mid air.

But even in this...the dilemmas that pursued those before us harangues us, if ever such a word exists in that manner.

That is...the re-creative block.