“You must have chaos within you to give birth to a dancing star.”
― Friedrich Nietzsche
Stardust dancing. Chaos splitting. We’re spinning, spinning . . . And I once pondered—am still pondering: What are these symbols—these words—that grow from those moments of connecting the disconnected? What are we if not the clearest representation of the beauty of a broken world? We are writers. We endure our inner-workings falling apart—falling together. Falling, all the same.
Falling . . . words often give me that sensation, as if I am falling up, toward a far-away point-of-no-return. Toward a reality that’s waiting just around the corner. My reality, a star—or dust—or some flickering light in between.
I have always seen words through gradients of potential: my potential savior, my potential weapon, my potential pain, my potential voice, my potential a glimmering supernova: the death of a star, not the birth of one. Go out with a bang, right?
Chaos doesn’t require a map. Neither does writing. That’s my problem. I’m always trying to define it: this wordy existence. But words often define themselves in layers (more gradients). I once analyzed poetry as a connection of systems: weave together unrelated systems with metaphor, build these abstract and complex meaning patterns (that probably no one else but me understands) based on the familiar systems we interact with on a daily basis. But words, though systematic in nature, are derived from something more illusory and subtle (or not-so-subtle, depending on your muse), from meanings we grow from ourselves and then define for others. The goal is simply to contain the energy enough that at least one person sees the burning mass at the center.
And that’s why I write, why I’ve always written. Not necessarily to create—to give birth to new stars—but to write about the dying ones, the chaotic universe in my own head. To write about the in-between places, to create my own internal systems.
Words give me the means to evolve—to make potential my reality: spinning spinning and stardust all the same.
How does chaos find its way into your writing? Let me know in the comments!