Further Reflections on My Previous Post

On the Labels

To be quite honest, I never accepted really accepted the labels. I have refused to allow myself to be called a poet, and a writer, and a designer, preferring instead to be referred to as "someone who does poetry/writing/art". Maybe I still wanted to be thought of as one anyway. Maybe it was a mixture of false modesty and riya' *. And if that's the case…well then maybe it's a good thing that I've come to the realisation I did.

Positives

I sound negative in my last post... and that's because I kinda was. But it doesn't have to be. There may be positives, and I think these should be celebrated too. If I am what I repeatedly do, then alongside looking at what I no longer do, I probably should look at my most regular actions. Alhamdulillah, there are many positive things that I repeatedly do. And few negatives. Which I'm cutting down on (especially one major one, which I think I've finally beaten)

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So, not too bad.

* riya' - the act of simulation, of making yourself look better than you are, for the purposes of seeking approval of the people of this world. Imam Khomeini gives a detailed exposition in his book 40 Hadith, and perhaps it's worth reflecting on why he places it at the very front of the book.

What I Am No Longer

From the changes post, I quote Aristotle:

"We are what we repeatedly do.
Excellence, therefore, is not an act, but a habit"
I focus now on the first half of the quote. We are indeed what we repeatedly do. Not what we think, or speak, but do. Actions are solid, measurable chunks of realness that you can look at and point to. The baker is so called after he has baked, repeatedly, that such an action may then be linked to his character, and become a defining characteristic. And the same goes for the butcher and the candle-stick maker, obviously.

The corollary must also hold true. If I no longer do anything with regularity, then I cannot allow myself in all honesty to call myself anything that would imply otherwise. Therefore, today I realised that I am no longer any of these things:

Poet

Two poems in 6 months? Really?

Writer of Fictions

4 this year. Last 5 months ago. I was never that proficient, to be honest, but at least every now and then I'd come up with a story I would be happy to post. I have the stories floating around in my head, but if I don't write them down…

Graphic Artist/ Designer

More than 20 months since my last creation. The less said the better.

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It hurts to see this. It hurts to recognise this. It shouldn't, but it does. Like I'm stripping away layers of myself, which were close to my sense of being.

One day, maybe I'll stop blogging. This blog, which has been my outlet and my solace for the past four years, which I have only let a few handpicked friends see… maybe even this will be neglected. This realisation, even though it only exists right now in potentia, hurts me even more, even though it shouldn't.

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Of course, were I to start doing the same actions again, with regularity, then maybe I could call myself those things again. That option is always open. For now, though, I choose to let those labels fall from me.