Sunday, January 02, 2005

must/should

Find out the reason that commands you to write; see whether it has spread its roots into the very depths of your heart; confess to yourself whether you would have to die if you were forbidden to write. This most of all: ask yourself in the most silent hour of your night: must I write?
- Rainer Maria Rilke ~ Letters To A Young Poet


must i write?

i first asked myself this question a few months ago when i stumbled upon a website that published all 10 of the letters rilke wrote to a young poet. in the months prior to the discovery of this website, i had been enamoured by stephen mitchell's translations of rilke's work. i was enchanted by how rilke dove into the very centres of the subjects of his poetry and became their voice. to me, it was like he was delving into a forbidden world of secret thoughts, thoughts not unlike the ones we often find ourselves formulating, only to dismiss them for an unknown reason.

must i write?

whenever i feel the need to come to the computer and type out my thoughts (my written journal has, sadly, been neglected for weeks), i find that i start to question what i want to write about, during the 5 minutes it takes to connect myself to the internet. very often this results in me not writing what i had initially planned to. instead it finds me staring blankly at the input form at diary-x.com trying to think of something else - hopefully something witty - to write about. eventually i give up, and pray that the few faithful ones who regularly visit my blog will forgive me for my silence. whenever that happens, though, i feel a deep sense of betrayal to myself. it's an emotion that is hard to explain, and it doesn't help that i don't forgive myself readily.

must i write?

a friend of mine, who is currently studying medicine in india, was online today. i asked her how she's holding up and she told me that she is perfectly happy despite the inevitable stressful moments. at this time when i am laden with doubt over the medical profession, i asked her how she came to discover such passion for medicine. "it came to a point when i couldn't imagine myself doing anything other than healing others".

must i write?

it was discouraging when my mother told me outright that she did not want me to be involved in any media-related field. her main reason is that i am not born to write. i do not possess an innate talent for putting pen to paper, for expressing myself, for empowering my words to take flight and touch people. i held back tears as my objective mind nodded its silent agreement.

must i write?

i asked myself this question again a few minutes ago. another friend, currently in england, had set up an internet portal to link malaysian students studying away from home. he asked me to write an article or two about any topic i like. honestly, i am terrified. i have never written anything real: real in the sense that the article is backed up by facts from reliable sources, and contains my opinion on issues that i care about, ala marina mahathir's musings. i am terrified. i can see myself giving him lame excuses in 2 weeks' time instead of turning in the articles as promised. and yet, at the same time, the thought of me hitting the "send" button with a look of satisfaction on my face in 2 weeks' time seems equally plausible.

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i don't know if i must write.

perhaps that alone is enough to show that i am nothing but a fraud when it comes to writing.

but i do know what commands me to write - that inner voice i suppress, the very voice rilke brings out in his work. its roots are spread into the very depths of my heart. it would slowly gain control over my sanity if i were forbidden to write.

i don't know if i must write, but i know i...should.

lishun at 6:20 PM

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