Alone tends to make me sad. What I mean by that, or what I think I mean by that, is that when I’m alone, if I’m not thinking about doing something about being alone I tend to feel alone and become sad.
Yes that’s what I mean exactly. And too much feeling alone and sad leads me to mad, not mad as in insane, but angry.
I read a small paragraph just a while ago in a Lawrence Block novel, private eye fiction at its best, a book where he writes about writers using their imagination. I was poked by a sudden realization that I have not used my imagination, if in fact I ever even had an imagination to use.
The sum total of all I have written, and there has been much both in blog and in songs and musical recordings, most if not all have been about fighting depression. About escaping loneliness. Hardly the things of imagination, mostly what I wrote was too deep into reality, my dark reality, endless exercises in Self-Psycho analysis and therapy at its best.
Even this endeavor right here is not imagination, it’s real. A good writer can take what is real and twist it into an imaginary situation, a story or a tale if you will that others might be able to see and relate to, or at least be interested in. A decent writer develops characters with entire personalities that become complete and detailed, that is the art of imagination.
Wait! I don’t know which side of my brain just told me this but it’s also a craft. Yes imagination is an art and a craft.
Could it be all this modern technology, iPad, iPhone,
iOS 7 Windows 8, control-alt-delete, has this turned my right brain left? Compound that with a lack of motivation, inertia and inherent laziness and my brain fries like an egg in the Mohave Desert.
Final point (haha, not hardly) is that at this point I’m not even writing this, I’m speaking it into an embedded microphone in a cell phone and it’s being transcribed in some mysterious technological way that I will later use Wi-Fi, why not, and send it to my laptop and embed it into a file and post it out there somewhere on my blog through the curse or blessing of cyberspace and the Internet.YIKES!
My wrestling match with the lack of imagination certainly isn’t caused by the lack of time or space. That could’ve been my excuse when I was raising two kids back in the 80s and early 90s,but as I look back into lower bowls of my computer and delve into long untouched folders I can see where I did more writing then in a more imaginative way than I do today.
Imagination by Wikipedia:
Imagination, also called the faculty of imagining, is the ability to form new images and sensations that are not perceived through sight, hearing, or other senses.
Wonderful Wikipedia, all the world’s knowledge at my fingertips. Let’s move on.
In that there is the problem, me discovering or recovering my imagination. Not a major problem for sure, just a situation I wrestle with this afternoon as the first good snowfall of the winter entertains and worries commuters.
Okay then, all well and good now, what’s to do about this mysterious elusiveness of creative imagination. Is there anything for me to do about it, do I want to do anything about it? Hmmmm.
I see the conundrum is that I must use my left brain to cultivate the right brain and by the time I get there I’ve created a traffic jam right in the middle. Slower traffic keep to the right. How does the saying go-the road to nowhere is paved with good intentions.
On a more positive note, this exercise has taken me approximately 60 minutes to accomplish. Sixty minutes where I was not thinking about being alone, lonely or sad or even approaching mad or angry. So this is a good thing right? Not terribly imaginative but quite therapeutic.
I feel good. I feel at peace and one with the snow falling and calming me. Weather it be good or bad, with a purpose or without, this road construction has been fun.
Alas there is no epilogue or moral to all of this because duty calls and that fine little wonderment of winter that has calmed me has fallen and accumulated.
No Hemingway here today, I got to go shovel the driveway.