Letting go… of not expressing

My writing sometimes feels like stray wisps of thoughts flying in the wind. I am able to catch some, while others are lost forever. At any given time, a good many of them hurtle around in my head.
When my thoughts do touch paper, it often feels as if the whirlwind in my head has calmed down. And it feels quiet – even if it is only for a brief moment till the whirring starts again.

The need to express is in many of us. I hear that the “creative types” feel the need more than others. And there is, of course, the obvious therapeutic effect.

I am reminded of this story from my college days. The street near our journalism department was lined with Banyan trees that were hundreds of years old. Huge beautiful Banyan trees that stood proud; with sweeping roots that dangled dramatically in the skies. Unfortunately, the city decided to cut them for road-widening and it was tragic to see them go. The street looked bald, weary and unhappy. And we felt just as unhappy and bewildered walking down that street.

We were sad and grumbled unhappily. But one of my friends decided to give his pain an artistic manifestation. He stomped home angrily, brought out his paints and painted images of the trees. He wrote some verses, journaled away furiously and artistically emptied out all painful emotion. His art and his expression helped him make peace with the matter.

When I learnt of it, I was impressed at how proactive he had been. The fact that I am still thinking and writing about it is evidence enough. While the rest of us wallowed in the unease, he had expressed, dealt with it and moved on whilst creating art.

Not many of us can paint or spout poetry in a bid to express. But we can find our own medium. Why then do we hold ourselves back and balk at expressing?

Writing is my expression and despite having known that for a long time, I feel as if I have not honored it. Much of my writing lies unfinished and forgotten. I needed to have a public blog that forces me to complete my thoughts and essays – for I cannot post unfinished ones.  Where friends message me saying, “Why have you stopped writing?” or “When will you write the next blog?” That forces me to find my way back.

If this is my expression, why do I balk so? Why do I need the push? Why do I hesitate or put it off? Why is it always the last priority?

No matter if it is a public forum or a quiet note in a private journal - why do we hesitate to express?