I love this word, Void.

With pleasure, I pass on to you this entirely original piece of writing:

"It occurs to me more and more these days that true growth when it comes to our creative practices, is all about holding the void. Being comfortable with the extremely restless discomfort of the vast infinitely holographically trip-inducing landscape of uncertainty and the unknown.

Actually, fuck that; it’s the true growth, depth, magnitude and seriously expansive stretch, into all areas of our life. Into being. Into becoming. Into...a continuous ouroboros eating tail, and tale, of the full snake of maturation.

This bearing the void.

I love this word.

Void.

It’s all 70s kitsch sci-fi and New Romantic 80s synth pop.

It dallies with the liminal. The word ‘void’ comes from the Latin for ‘threshold’. The threshold between our world, all seemingly solid and linear, with the sleight of the magician’s white-gloved hand, into another world that on paper, all data and statistical fact, does not make one iota of sense.

It’s the realm of none-sense.

My favourite.

All imaginal spaces where no rules apply. It’s a Trickster’s paradise. It’s Fools gold. The playground of absolutely any fucking thing you could possibly even imagine. And much much more which you just simply can’t. Not with that tiny brain of yours anyways my love!

The Void.

The completely empty space.

The fullness of the nothing state.

The paradoxical notion that nothing is everything, and that wholeness is becoming one with this hole.

For, if we think about it in radical energetic and cosmic juju terms; this void, this hole, contains all of life. All potentiality. All possibility.

No wonder we simply cannot fathom it’s massive-ness.

I mean, it would blow our minds to smithereens.

Boom!!!! Brains splattered all over the place and space. Which as an image, pleases my horror loving mind enormously.

Yet, in order to move from one dimensional state of being, into a new state of becoming, bearing this void is exactly what we’re asked to do. Whether we understand it’s mechanical workings beneath its great galaxy gangsta hood, or not.

When we say yes to the void, we give permission for our very nature to be redefined. An inner piñata if you will. All shaken and stirred, but without Bond to make the whole experience more, erm, palatable.

The pieces of our inner jigsaw puzzle realigning. Shaken up like a snow globe until all parts of ourselves fall back to rest down into a new image. A new picture, one that is as yet unrevealed.

But boy oh boy, it’s hard.

It’s hard because we have to trust in, believe in, what it is that we are stepping forward into.

A new identity.

A new way of being.

A new life.

Out with the old and in with the new.

It’s a void because it hasn’t been birthed yet, it’s still in the birthing canal. And it’s dark in there.

That’s what it’s like when we come to our writing desk each day.

A blank page. The cursor flashing at us. Teasing us. Beckoning and taunting us.

All is as yet unwritten. And we hold the pen.

Well. That may well be the case, but who is feeding us the words?..."

(An excerpt from my latest piece of writing )

https://heidihinda.substack.com/.../the-grand-erotic...