Today officially marks the first day of my summer reprieve from school. While initially I tried to keep up with the blog, my novel, and assignments I soon found I had to cut something out for awhile and sadly this little space of blogheaven, for me, was paused.
It is something of a process to begin focusing 75% of my mind on writing again, sadly I’ve been going through monotonous actions defined in the presence of each day for 6 months now. Last week however, I decided I should begin to flex the right side of my brain a bit and attempt to uncover why inspiration appears at only certain points in life or the day. My conclusion: Romance.
When speaking of romance in terms of defining the meaning behind the word and the notions it implies, I began examining not the conventional sense of the word that is attached to tokens of the heart given to a beloved. No romance isn’t the novelty that has placed itself on shelves of drugstores in the beginning of January. Romance is a state of living– of thinking that satisfies ones own heart.
Skewed notions of the word in our modern society have led the masses to associate romance with another person. Romance is finding your chest swelled with air at the sight of morning dew, or the reddening of the face when words you can not hold back flow out of your mouth. It’s standing up for a belief; living each day with a purpose no matter the subject. It is feeling everything and learning to pluck those observations from your experiences and use them for your art. It’s unplugging oneself from the demands of the world and looking towards demands of the mind and soul. The adage that the world has branded upon the word has taken away from the adventure it once promised. Hemingway once said, “Every man’s life ends the same way. It’s only the details of how he lived and how he died that distinguish one man from the other.” If ever there was a proverb my life I believe his words will be adopted permanently into my heart.