It seems I forgot the post about my fourth Toki Pona month, but I was busy drawing in sitelen sitelen for Inktober, which means… yes, I think I’m definitely into Toki Pona. November was quieter, lazy to be honest, but I’m now working on an album that will include lyrics in Toki Pona. Which is kind of crazy, unexpected and exciting, thanks to the motivation provided by a friendly clown (who also happens to be a member of this forum, wink wink) and his singing comrades.
You’d think I now feel at least like an intermediate Toki Pona speaker, but… no. The more I write and think in Toki Pona, the less I feel like mastering anything. I’m rediscovering it every time, and I’m starting to understand where it really comes from, how helpful it can actually be to clarify one’s thoughts, especially when they’re dark and relentless.
Right now, I’m reading the official book again, and I think I’ll keep coming back to it month after month. I now find writing in Toki Pona much more difficult than before. It’s very simple indeed, but every single word bears a power much greater than in any other language. They need to be chosen carefully, as the tiniest nuance can change the meaning drastically. And their simplicity also puts in perspective the fact that most of what I’d like to say or express is just noise disguised as depth.
What is worth saying, really? And more important, what is worth singing? When I started to work on my OP-Z mini-album project, I just wanted to vent myriads of complicated feelings, and reshape them as gritty minimal techno. Now I’m losing myself in strange haiku, chiseling thoughts that don’t feel as imperious as they did, trying to give meaning to something that may not need any.
Maybe I’m overthinking this, maybe I shouldn’t look for meaning, rhymes or rhythms, maybe I shouldn’t count syllables and imagine how they’ll sound when sung. Maybe I just need to let the words flow, no matter how nor where. But, in a way, it would be harder.
I don’t know where I’m going, and I’m not sure I care, as I’m enjoying the journey.
