“Writing should serve as the axe for the frozen sea within us” F. Kafka
I certainly agree with the overarching sentiment here, but I find myself a bit repulsed by the components. Perhaps I’m just reading a bit too literally. “Frozen sea,” for me, implies not only a paralysis without writing, but also a frigidness. Perhaps I am partially paralyzed, but I do not this that my insides are ever frigid, writing or no. As for “the axe,” I prefer to think of the acts of expression and self-discovery through writing as teasing out the knot of insides and laying them out in a way that makes sense, and in a way that is, for me, almost sublime.
But what does “Writing should serve to tease out our warm and squishy insides” sound like? Somehow, it completely loses the urgency, and it devalues the torrent locked away within us. I am quite drawn to the raw feeling of Kafka’s quotation and I agree that writing can unlock something within me… but I must be cautious in how that sentiment is expressed.