I sat before a computer and decided this was a time to rub the Aladdin’s lamp of writing and have the genie of the lamp rise to grant me a wish of inspiration.
I rubbed and scrubbed until the gleam gave way to the bland metal that had been electroplated with the promise of something more valuable and no genie came.
Then I thought the lamp had been given had no particular mystery to its existence apart from what the purpose of the lamp is, to light up my path so I could see the way and when in a dark room to light it up lest I dash my precious shins against sharp table edges that would leave me groaning in pain.
The knowledge of pain
Pain is something I know, or rather, something I once knew, it lived in my body and took a whole apartment in my mind. Its demands for my attention were extraneous and beyond what I could naturally handle that I needed analgesics and opium-based medication to give me comfort.
Yet, there are times when in my lonely corner, I have cried at the pain inflicted because of my ignorance or stupidity, I wept a little, sniffled a little and calmly bore my cross, the pain with its sudden appearance will with time wane away and my comfort will return with the increase of knowledge of a lesson learnt.
Wishing and hoping
So there, there is no Aladdin’s lamp with a genie of inspiration to guide you when you are compelled to write. Maybe however, if we allow our imagination to be excited that one little bit, there is indeed a genie and though I had a wish to write, what was granted as my wish was dark and scary.
When next I rub that lamp, I hope my wish to write is granted and whatever I write is something to make you smile, but I will have this thought at the back of my mind, be careful what you wish for.