thoughts zoomed in

I write because in writing there is a logical detachment between myself and my thoughts. I love dissecting my own thoughts into tiny fragments and placing each part under a microscopic lens.

In externalising these thoughts I am able to view them in their wholeness— the structure, the impact and the takeaway, but also in their parts- the details, the metaphors and the inconsistencies. I look at it from left and from right, spot the weak and strong, the good and the absurd. Whereas, when they are in my head, they become too sacred — almost an intangible extension of myself. I am less likely to label a random nugget of thought as silly if it's still making rounds in my mind. Unfortunately my default mode is that I tend to believe that it holds some value. Like a child who can't part with their bug-infested bear — I hold my thoughts too close, too personally!

But when they leave the head space and turn into letters on paper — it then becomes a thought that originated from me but doesn't belong to me. I switch roles — I become the reader from the writer. Now it is a piece that was cultivated in the soil of my mind and has left its origin to weather and transform for the better. Like a farmer who harvests all his yield but sells only top-notch sorted goods — writing only makes the winnowing and culling of raw thoughts more apparent.

There are also instances when I believe the idea I have is an honest representation of my own values and beliefs. It's only after a deeper, deliberate attempt at sitting with it that I realise it had the shadow of another writer's thought, or the noise of borrowed beliefs or the need to surrender originality for mass validation. A re-examination of it reveals these and pushes it towards more authenticity. I now realise why the Chief Editor of a daily magazine is more revered than the original writer of the column!

They say think twice before you speak, I'd add to that: read thrice before you publish, like I did for this very piece.