The disheartening phenomenon has rendered me defenseless once again. Only, this time it has not paralyzed my eloquence. I am writing these lines because I am allowed to, because words have not forsaken me. Not yet, at least. Therefore I am taking the liberty of describing the sudden invasion.
Nonetheless, I am quite unsure about what final shape this monograph will take. Would it, once finished, qualify to be called a treatise on my suffering? Or would it simply turn out to be an insipid essay, which will demonstrate the depth of my helplessness? I am, as yet, unsure.
I do greatly value the time and intelligence of my readers. I am morally obligated not to waste the former, nor to tax the latter beyond reasonable limits. And yet, at times such as now - fallen prey to a disease that numbs the mind - I fear that I have committed the crime and driven my readers away. It is precisely this strange feeling, which usually consumes me enough to keep me from picking up a pen or pecking at the keyboard.
A peculiar sensation – as if everything worth writing about has already been written about, and as if writing any more would make no sense – creeps in from somewhere and overwhelms the mind. It usually attacks without forewarning, and there is no telling as to how long it rules.
It invades such powers of the mind as perception, thought, scrutiny, and reasoning. All of a sudden, nothing seems to matter. Creativity seems to have gone out the back door. Ideas do not appeal; analysis evaporates into thin air. A cruel void, an eerie silence - very different from the pregnant silence that results from meditation - remains.
Sometimes I come to hope that a short walk in the midst of nature would help. But then I recall that some of us have made every effort to corrupt nature with the concrete jungle, the exhaust fumes, the plastic roses, the contamination, and the incessant din. We have replaced the beauty of nature with all our filth. A short walk amidst those could only make matters worse; it might even be fatal!
If I ever bring myself to publish this article on my blog, it would be to record this disgusting affliction, for which I have not yet found an effective therapy, short of endurance. It would also be to record evidence to the fact that I did not go down without a fight.
And at this point, words do fail me. But I tried.