The button for a new post on Blogger is labeled "Create."

Such a tall order.

I feel unworthy to click the tab.

When I write here, I don't think I am creating anything. Perhaps more chaos and a few extra thoughts in the ocean of idealism we call the blogging community.

Sometimes, I wish I could convince people to stop writing.

That's the meanness in my spirit. Everyone is a writer, an artist, an expresser of some sort, and as the Montessori model goes, it should be cultivated. But some people abuse it, as I am doing right now, degrading their own potential by elevating their most mediocre and admiring it as their best. The tab I will click next is "Publish Post." Does that mean I am published?

Does writing here mean that I create?

I'm incredibly frustrated with my writing, as with the rest of my life. It's so, so easy to imagine one's self to be the next Virginia Woolf when you get an A in creative writing in college. It's still easy when you publish some articles just out of college. Then some years pass, and somehow, before you know, in the mad rush to make money, to make a name for yourself, to make a place in this world, you find the only things you can make look exactly like what everyone makes... and you have ceased to create.

Maybe I have an obsession with God, but I can't think of this without thinking of God.

Because my faith teaches me that God created humans in His image. In other words, just as humans beget other humans, God created something very much like Himself, and we have yet to discern how much like Him we really are. That thought just thrills me in my core.

If God created through the Word, and Jesus was called the Word as He went out to show the truth and love of God, then when I create, my creation should go out and show something new, something novel, something thrilling. Then, when someone picks that up, they should receive the spirit of my work, something not even I can know the effects of... just as Jesus left but His spirit lives on. The Word goes out, surging with life in the Spirit.

Taking this lesson from faith, I create, if I am really living up to my potential as a living being (even plants reproduce). I create, and it goes out into the world (a mother does not intentionally get pregnant with plans to abort, and a creator should not intentionally create without ever giving body and life by letting the creation be known). Those who pick it up, if it is real, if it is them growing, then it will be real to those who experience it. It will be different. We are not clones of God, and our work should only be inspired from us, never a clone.

These thoughts are swimming in my head. Christmas confuses me. It must be all the lights.

The plan now: read some E.M. Forester, spend lots of time alone... regain creativity.

Oh my mind, where have you gone these past few years?