Writing in the dark

For the last month, I’ve taken up a new habit.

At the end of every day, I like to write a quick summary of my day in my notebook. Nothing serious, but just a way for me to go over what my day consisted of.

It has been great. I have enjoyed doing it, and it helps me better understand myself.

A few nights back though, when the clock struck 11:15 pm and it was time for me to do my daily journal, I realized something.

The light in my room was off.

Two things went through my mind, 1. I could get up and turn my light on or 2. I could write in the dark.

I chose option 2.

It was a weird experience. You don’t realize how much you rely on light in order to write until you are in the dark. I kept losing track of where on the page I was writing, what words I had already written, and where the page ended. But after the first few lines, it felt freeing. I felt that I was not bound by the rules. You don’t have to worry about coloring inside the lines if you can’t see the lines. The style of my writing took on a voice of its own, which was very out of character for me.

How much of our life is like writing in the dark?

Where we have faint ideas of where we are and where we are going, but it is really difficult to pinpoint the exact position. Where you have no idea where you really are until you turn the lights on. No idea whether what you are makings is a masterpiece or a mess, unless you take a second to pause and reflect. But what constitutes a masterpiece? Is it a finely typed paper with perfect margins? Is it something unique to itself, that wouldn't have existed with the lights on?

I liked writing with the lights off. For whatever reason, it was the freest I have ever felt while writing. We are all writing with the lights off.