Building Worlds · 8:42pm Apr 12th, 2012
In my head, and within all writers and painters and dreamers lie worlds. Endless, infinite whorls constellations of lives, universes, and worlds. Thousands of stars floating in imaginative cosmos scattered throughout the conscious depths of we creators. Within our minds, we are as gods, as beneficent or malignant as we choose. We populate these planes with whatever we see fit. From dragons, ponies, humans, or other races entirely living in cities of silver, of glass and metal, of wooden huts. They can be flat, or vibrant, utopian or dystopian, (and why does FiMF recognize that as a misspelled word?) as we choose. Creating a world or people is as simple as imagining it. All the love and loss that exists therein is entirely our choice.
When you walk the streets, or go to work or school, take a moment and look at those around you and imagine the galaxies swirling about their heads.
We all have secret places we share with no other, little places we retreat to or vacation at. A sandy beach, the ocean soft in your ears as you snooze in a hammock. Perhaps in front of a fireplace from a childhood you wish you had. Driving that luxury car or living in that big house at the end of the lane. Imagination, creation, exploration on a mental plane is both rewarding, natural, and instinctive.
I take pride (hubris?) in knowing that from my head sprouts a monolithic tree of stars and constellations. Each more intricate than the last. The roots of this great edifice grow all the way to my earliest days of running through the forests of my suburban youth, imagining adventures and tales of heroism. Of monsters made of leaf and twig, and their defeat by my own tiny, mighty, arm. I would look up at the starry night sky and pretend I floated through the blackness, finding lost civilizations. And, to those of you who know of Draconity, most of all I would look at the bright blue sky and wish with the dearest, deepest part of my heart of hearts to fly.
It is from the tree of my visualized fancy that I pluck the fruits which are borne from its many branches. These are the stories that I share, the ones that ripen from fragile flowers to plant the seeds of the tales contained into the minds of those who read them. So it is for the writer, the storyteller, who nourishes and cares for his tree that bears the most succulent, most delectable and desirable fruit.
Shape your worlds fellow writers, fellow authors, brothers and sisters of the word and brush. Find your inspiration, treasure your secret places, do what you must to let the flowers bloom whether they need night or sun, rain or earthy loam. Stare into the heavens, walk those forgotten roads, sit in that old coffee shop or cafe with nothing but a notebook and an idea. We all have worlds, big and small within us, and the choice to share them is always yours.
For me at least, there is a flip side to the boon of what I hope is my gift.
I suffer from chronic nightmares. For some reason this seems pertinent to put in this blog to perhaps give perspective on me. (and hey, this is my blog, I'll write what I want to share) My wife, bless her gentle soul, is a very talented dream interpreter and has many years experience in the field and has never met anyone with as vicious, nor vivid nightmares as I. I shall perhaps wax on about some of them at a later date, but suffice it for now that waking, screaming and thrashing as the fragments of the night terror lingers is a regular occurrence. Perhaps that is why I strive to create my many worlds and stories, to expunge the darkness within. Simultaneously however I know deep within that the darkness will never leave me, that is imprinted upon me and everything I am.
And yet, ever so rarely, I will receive a dream of peace, of tranquility and even just silence. These are all the more bright for the dark they must pass through.
Okay, perhaps this blog post diverged slightly from my original intentions, but I do not feel as though the words were wasted.
Green is the Spring, Blue is the Summer, Gold is the Autumn, and Red is the Winter.
That is all.
69235
Thanks! Sometimes I just like to splurge whatever I'm thinking at the moment.