Ending the Duties, the Demons, and the Burdens

“Free was the tree.” The old man murmured.

“But a tree can’t be free.” The little boy said as he climbed on the old man’s lap.

“Shhh,” the old man said, frustrated. “you wanted a story, and I am telling you one. You take it as you want.”

“Free was the tree.” The old man began, “It was free, but it had roots that tugged at it. The tree felt that he could never be without his roots or his duties.”

“The tree, however, could do anything that it wants. It can dream and it can be free, the tree has it’s own power that it can posses.”

“But grandfather,” the boy said in an hesitant tone, “if the tree was free from the roots, it would die.”

“Ah, my dear boy,” the old man remarked, “You are right. You know something that most people learn only in old age, a tree or a person, or anything in this world can never be truly free of their duties or demons that hold them down emotionally. Yet, my boy you must find a way to cope with those duties or demons.

Even if it kills you trying.”

Card game poem

This poem is from the word card game. Each word that I was given is in bold.

A conspiracy behind the scream:

The delirious fountain was content with the vast murmur of the water.

Then, a crystallized flamingo screamed in the local cemetery.  “There must be a conspiracy behind the scream.” The fountain thought.

The tide in the water went on fire and the firelight allured the Beast living in the next village.

The Beast gripped to the velvet lilacs next to him as he sat down in his garden. It seemed to shimmer as he schemed up his plan.

The Beast then put his plan into perspective and he slept on the idea. Through the night, the village where the fountain and the flamingo reside, burned to the ground in a gleaming shimmer.

Now, the screams  of all the victims in the fire, haunt the Beasts’ dreams.

Loneliness and Isolation: Necessary Ingredients of Creativity?

I found this article to be very intriguing, especially because the life of Vincent Van Gogh is analyzed with the idea that isolation is needed for the creative process. So what do you think? Do you think that isolation or social rejection is needed to be creative?
link to article: http://delistraty.com/2015/04/17/is-social-rejection-the-key-to-creativity/?src=longreads


(Vincent) Van Gogh likely had a cadre of mental issues, none of which were suitably diagnosed while he was alive. Yet what seemed to weigh heaviest on him was the inevitability of his loneliness. According to his letters to Theo, he felt he had one of two options: content himself with loneliness or try to countenance his loneliness with friendships thereby derailing his creativity (“lead us from the road,” as he wrote).

Aldous Huxley wrote, “If one’s different, one’s bound to be lonely,” and upon thinking about it even a little, it quickly becomes apparent that many of history’s creative geniuses have been deeply lonely people. There is the obvious reason for this: dedicating oneself to an artistic pursuit means one has little time for social endeavors. This is what has frustrated flamboyant, gregarious writers like F. Scott Fitzgerald and Henry James, both of whom wrote about the dreadful isolation…

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The Love that Never Was

June 25:

When I opened the door to my small, brown-stoned New York apartment, I wished that I could go back. I wanted to run all the way across town and say that I was sorry about leaving. I wanted to tell Liam that I loved him and no matter the distance between us, he would always be mine. I settle on my old green couch, trying to recount the day’s events. I remembered how he ran his fingers through his dark brown curly hair. I have known him for so long that I know whenever he does that he is pensive. “Audrey, it’s a great experience for you to move to Hong Kong and be a journalist. But what about us? I don’t know how we will be able to communicate,” Liam explained in a somber voice. I tried to sound cheerful, “well it is the 21st century, there will be a lot of ways for us to communicate.” Even with my cheerful demeanor, I could see that something was wrong with Liam, I just wasn’t sure what. Maybe now I should go to him and tell him that I actually don’t want to go to Hong Kong, that I want to stay with him. He has a successful future ahead of him. Early this summer he was offered the opportunity to be an intern at a photographer’s studio. “No Audrey,” I said aloud. You supported him in his creative endeavors, now it’s time for him to support you, no matter how far away you may seem.” I stood up and moved over to my bedroom window. From the window, I glanced at the setting sun and I know that soon the moon will emerge and all of the issues from the day will be gone. Why didn’t I feel optimistic? I knew that Liam and I could get through this, and we can always visit each other. As the sun left the sky I thought not only of Liam, but of all the endless possibilities awaiting me in Hong Kong.


October 7:

Everything in Hong Kong has been blissfully unpredictable. I have been here for around four months, but have been working and exploring most of my days. As a journalist, I work at a magazine firm that lets me travel to different parts of Asia and write about my experiences. My experiences have been indescribable, and I am so lucky to be a part of them however, I wish that I could experience them with someone… someone like Liam. I always thought of traveling by myself as therapeutic, and the chance to do what I want, but after traveling to secluded beaches and spiritual temples, It would be wonderful to talk to someone about what I feel and see when I am at these places.

Where Liam is concerned, we did skype on a weekly basis during my first few weeks in Hong Kong, but then the communication dissipated. Now we don’t skype or use any kind of communication to see how the other is doing. I want to know what his life is like right now. I want to desperately see him, to wrap my arms around him and never let go, I want to suffocate him in the love that I have for him, and even then I don’t think he could fathom how much I admire and adore him. I hope that he knows that whenever I think of him, I send him light and love and go on with my day’s activities, since I think that’s all I can ever do from this point on.

December 10:

“Audrey, I’ve missed you!” My older sister Nora yelled when I entered her studio apartment. I was able to have a few weeks off of work since I am soon going on a new project that studies gender roles of indigenous tribes in Thailand in February and I will be working everyday for three months. I am beyond excited as my research may be featured in a magazine. “My globe trotting sister.” Nora said as she studied me. “I am so proud of you.” My sister gave me an all encompassing smothering hug. “What do you want to do today?” “I think I’m going to go out for a bit. Maybe reconnect with New York City.” I responded. “Okay, just don’t catch a cold.” Gosh, she sounds just like our mother. As I walked out into the street, I spotted Liam holding hands with a short, attractive, brunette. So much for having an unconditional love for him.

Six word stories

He whispered softly, I love you.

He started his journey on foot.

I screamed, no one could hear.

She created a life she loved.

The owner left, the dog whimpered.

The cafe smelled like blissful contentment.

She disappeared into his arms, crying.

A figment of the crazy imagination.

He couldn’t hear. She couldn’t see.