i write to think, and i paint to stop thinking

Hello, I hope you’re doing great!

Lately, I've been thinking a lot about why I write. It's something I've done for years, but the more I reflect on it, the more I realize that writing has become much more than a habit.

Over the past few years, I’ve written more than I could ever count. To me, writing feels like becoming conscious. Like it’s only when I write that I truly realize I’m here.

Because writing forces me to think. To question. To understand, and to keep trying to understand. It’s where I hold onto moments, experiences, and everything I’ve learned. It’s where I question those same moments, experiences, and truths.

I write to understand myself, but also the world around me. I write to understand other people—not on the surface, but on a deeper level. A level where they’re finally given the space to simply be understood.

Everything else moves so fast. But when I write, time belongs to me. I decide how slowly a moment unfolds. For years I’ve been writing, mostly because I wanted to understand. And I’ve realized that understanding never really ends. There’s always something new asking to be explored—something about yourself, about life, about the people around you. I think that’s why I’ll probably never stop writing.

I know that for many people, writing feels difficult because they don’t know what to write about.

For me, writing is simply a conversation with myself. Sometimes I’m speaking to the person I am today. Sometimes to the little version of me, preserving memories I don’t want to lose. Sometimes I write to the person I’ll become one day. And very often, I write to God.

Because, like I said, writing is when I feel most awake. Sometimes I imagine the ink as energy flowing out of me. Consciousness taking shape. Something invisible within me becoming visible through words. And that ink never really runs dry, as long as I allow it to exist.

We carry so many thoughts. So many memories. So many experiences. So many ideas. Write them down. Don’t worry about what they’ll become. Don’t ask whether they’re good enough. Write simply because writing itself is enough.

Keep a notebook close. Keep a pen nearby. Capture that energy whenever it arrives. Even if it makes no sense yet. Even if you don’t know what it means. Even if you have no idea where it might lead you.

One of my favorite feelings is sitting down with a mind that feels heavy, crowded, almost numb. And then I begin to write. Slowly, everything starts to settle. Things become clearer. New perspectives appear. Thoughts that felt tangled somehow find their place.

And afterward comes this quiet relief—as if something that had been trapped inside of me finally found its way out. I love that feeling. That clarity after writing. For me, that’s reason enough to keep doing it.

And then there’s painting. I paint for almost the opposite reason. As strange as it sounds, sometimes I don’t want to think. Sometimes I don’t want to search for words that explain what I’m feeling. Sometimes I don’t want to understand. I just want to be.

I don’t want to analyze my experiences, other people, or the world. I simply want to feel them. Without judging them. Without turning them into language. That’s when I reach for paint.

Most of the time, it’s shades of brown. Those colors calm my nervous system. They quiet my mind. They make me breathe a little slower.

I don’t want words. I don’t want forms. I don’t want realism. I want to go beyond all of that. I want to exist without needing to explain my existence. So I let go. And I paint. It’s the same energy that flows through my writing, only now it’s even more direct. Almost like breathing.

And afterward I feel the same thing I feel after writing. Clear. Present. Grateful. Grateful that, for a little while, I allowed myself to simply exist without expecting anything from myself.

What the painting looks like in the end doesn’t really matter. Because it was never about creating something “beautiful”. It was about holding onto something invisible. An energy. Something beyond form. Beyond time. Beyond space.

I don’t know if anyone reading this will truly understand what I mean. But I think someone will. Otherwise, there wouldn’t be so much art in this world.

Maybe for you it’s dancing. Or playing an instrument. Singing. Running through a field. Maybe that’s where you meet yourself.

Because wherever I look, I see art. In a table. In a vase. In a song. In a book. In a bottle. In a pair of headphones. In another human being.

Everywhere I look, I see creation. I see that same energy moving through everything. It’s everywhere.

And sometimes I find myself knowing—that’s what God is. The source from which everything flows.

Along with this, I wanted to share a painting I made a few days ago. It’s still hanging behind my desk, drying. I catch myself looking at it often, and every single time I notice something different.

Sometimes I see a dancing figure. Sometimes a bird lying still. Sometimes two roosters fighting each other. Other times I notice running dogs—or nothing at all.

I’ve always been fascinated by how the mind tries to recognize patterns. The longer I sit with it, the more it reveals itself. Or maybe it’s revealing something in me.

It still doesn’t have a title. It’s one of the first paintings I created after moving to this new city. I like looking at it.

I like getting lost in it.

If you are interested in purchasing the original artwork, please feel free to contact me at: contact@raniagebagi.com

With Love

Rania🤍