Antique Fool

I had to suppress the mischievous urge to ask how much can I fetch.  

Paradoxical Searching

It was not my initial intention at all to stop writing in this space for the past nine months. On the contrary, there were numerous occasions where I have decided to write a post about something but failed to do so for various reasons. Some of these attempted posts included my thoughts and reflections following my visit to the Auschwitz-Birkenau concentration camp in Krakow, Poland (photos here); also my academic and theological struggles as I set about writing my essay for my final year research project on Biblical law - The Usage of the Decalogue in the Pauline Epistles. One reason for the hiatus is attributable to my lack of energy and motivation (increasing exponentially as school term progressed) to write outside the requirements of my school curriculum. My selection of subjects at school required me to constantly switch my mode of thinking across philosophy, sociology, theology, law and at times, anthropology. It was tiring to say the least. Once, having done my reading on insolvency law and moving on to my readings for Paul's writing on the Torah, I was left wondering in one cold winter night how insolvency law was ever linked to salvation. Writing different essays within the same time period on the said areas seemed to have had an effect of having multiple strands of Hegalian dialectic clashing within my mind all at once. All these extraction of abstraction led only to confusion and silent hopes for salvation. Drained of energy, blogging naturally fell out of my life during the said season. 

Although the above limits of energy and motivation contributed greatly to the hiatus, there has been another question which I was and still am not able to fully answer. This question has, it appears, to have been rather successful in putting me off from blogging for the past nine months. It is quite a simple question actually - put simply, why should I be writing and sharing my thoughts? I am not a good writer - my writings are neither inspiring nor elucidating. What is the worth of my writings then? Bearing in mind that I have had the tendency to publish posts either on general experiences of life or reproduction of passages by certain writers, my posts naturally have questionable worth of existence. In the former case, since general experiences of life usually take place in one form or another, then the sharing of them become rather redundant. In the latter case, what value does mere reproduction of writings and thoughts hold? After all, it is much better if one reads the actual writings and form one's interpretation of it instead of reading what's mine.

Yet, I am writing in this space after all. I kept asking myself why. I know not; at least, not knowing entirely. Perhaps, there is something that is intricate within the process of writing itself. The choice of words, framing of words, the thought process involved... maybe all these have an allure of their own. Little wonder why we appreciate poetry and well written essays and novels then... just as how we all have our preferences of writers and style of writing. Perhaps, there may be something about blogging that has gotten to me - a space for penning certain thoughts, a habit that has stuck with me for close to a decade. Paradoxically, I returned to this space to think through and write about why I should (or not) continue writing here. Parallel to this line of thought on writing has been that of photography - but photography is not about searching for that special photo. Photography's allure is more than just the output - the output is a reflection of the vision and creativity of the photographer, along with the necessary technical abilities to create the desired image. It may be that the same may be said of writing: it's not really about what is written but what has been put in to effect it. But surely, this is something that I am not incognisant to - why then do I ask?

For all this deliberation, there may be, like most of my other questions, no answer at all - lacking explanatory power, all I can liken at best to is the analogy that I may have been trying in vain to freeze and isolate a part of the "flowing" stream of life and consciousness. A pause?

Trailing off.