The birds have gone to sleep long back. Drops of rain falling on the grass outside to create a symphony of its own. I  had finished my 3rd peg of Chivas and should go to sleep.

But there are days where even as an artist you are completely involved more in mundane stuff.  The model posed for an hour but absolutely nothing came out of my charcoal pencil. Nothing emerged today that was deeply honest. Deeply creative. Because everything that even tries to arise from within you, immediately hits a wall of judgment. Is it good ? Is it bad? And in this exhausting conversation with doubt, judgment gets the better of instinct. And like a child that has been told off for being naughty, instinct quietly retreats into a corner and sulks. Judgment, like a school master bloated with prejudice, wins again. Doubt rules triumphant. Once again it has caged you in its claws. Once again you are consigned to being mundane. To being normal.

Once again you have been unable to express your inner voice.

Do this too often and you will stop hearing the screams of anguish from your inner child. Beware though. If that child looses its innocence. It will turn from pure creative instinct into pure anger. And then even Doubt will not be able to withstand it’s venting. Beware the demonic quality of the unexpressed inner child.