My Words Are Liquid Gold

How about that? I get up early today and find another puzzling, vague choice of daily prompt, this one inspired by an Allen Ginsberg quote and telling me to “Howl at the Moon”. Is it asking to unleash the werewolf in me? To be able to expand upon this prompt and explain it in words, I had to do a little research and find out what Ginsberg meant by “Follow your inner moonlight; don’t hide the madness”.

Waxing and waning. That’s how I describe my inner moonlight. It has been developing for some time, slowing turning into a full moon and waning at the slightest fears and troubles. My inner voice that guides me along the literary path to writer’s happiness is one of trials and tribulations. It hasn’t always been easy; I’ve needed a helping hand along the way and I still stumble occasionally. The madness has not been readily apparent in my words; I tend to shy away from letting that side of me be shown to everyone. I wouldn’t say there is much of it anyway; I’m fairly tame at best. Sometimes I might go off the deep end a bit and push things a little too far when trying to get a point across, all for the merrier. When writing anything, from stories to poetry, I tend to choose words that flow from me in an easy, comforting way, and settle into my subconscious like little guilty pleasures, repeating them internally and being satisfied at how magnificent they are. The inner moonlight in me seems to know what is right and what is wrong so I let its majesty do the talking and I do the walking.

My life has always been guided by Mr. Ginsberg’s novelty advice (who I thank thrice as he subsides in literary heaven); I am very relaxed in the way I live and tend to not let anything bother me. Everyone in my closest family is fairly calm and collected as well. The madness of me is probably not really having a strict path to follow in life; I go where the bouncy dot leads me, hopping and skipping across the letters until it reaches something I can immediately dive into. When I don’t go to bed at night and stay up until the rooster crows in the morning (just a metaphor, I don’t live anywhere near a farm) multiple times, my madness says to me, “Hey, you’re okay!” When I go on my daily walks, listening to my tunes, being in my own world, I don’t care if others find me a little strange as I walk by them. That’s who I am. I need that in my life to concentrate and organize my jumbled mind patterns.

Like Sara Bareilles sings, “Say what you wanna say and let the words fall out”, I say whatever comes to my mind when I sense a good thought arising. I used to never be like this. I used to be trapped in my mind, unable to say anything because I was afraid of what people would think of me and feared being ostracized (I always thought that word involved an ostrich). This part of me dates way back to elementary school, when the autistic, nonverbal side of me was very prominent and magnified 100x by everyone in the room. Around age 17 I started to push away from my autistic peg and become a more outspoken person, to my dismay since it totally disrupted my normal, meditative routines. But now my words feel like gold to me, liquid gold, shining brightest when they reach the unpolluted air of the room, ringing out and becoming cherished memories in my mind for a couple of minutes, me reveling over how great (or bad) they sounded. They define my character and seem to boost the morale in me as well. There are still times though when I feel my voice is not strong enough and gets overshadowed by other boisterous giants, where every time I try to put my two cents in I end up getting getting drowned out and discouraged easily. Only then can I shrug my shoulders and think that life is just a bitch sometimes. Learn to deal with it.

I don’t say a whole lot in life, a lot in writing yes, but when I do, my words are as mighty as the Nile and as strong as the storm that subsided outside my house this morning. They don’t come cheap and pack a lot of meaning.

“Follow your inner moonlight; don’t hide the madness.” — Allen Ginsberg
Do you follow Ginsberg’s advice — in your writing and/or in your everyday life?