I didn’t think it could happen, but yesterday, I just didn’t feel like writing!
Most days, I can’t wait to start pouring my thoughts out, but yesterday, after working all day on a very dry project, completely lacking in creativity, for work, the writer part of my brain was just exhausted! It isn’t that the project is completely lacking in creativity, because, heaven knows, I’m having to be very creative with regard to figuring out how much to write and how to say it. I just don’t feel what I’m writing.
I’ve decided that, today, I’ll step away from the project for a bit to try to gain some perspective, then, much like re-reading things I wrote a week, a month, a year ago, I’m hoping that flashes of insight will emerge from what I’ve already written, in the manner of a phoenix from the ashes of a pyre of its own creation, and that I’ll be hit with such an amazing and powerful flash of inspiration that, suddenly, the thing will virtually write itself!
Which could be part of my problem with the whole thing right now. I’m so used to sitting down and letting my story write itself, my fingers leaving my brain behind as they take on a mind of their own, that to have to actually think through not only the content, but the format, is simply stifling my creativity to the point of catatonia!
Even now, I find myself pausing halfway through a sentence, forgetting what I was trying to say.
So this is what a mental block feels like? Make it go away! Please!!!
I have a vision of my mind as an endless system of tunnels going off in millions of different directions, but someone has forced an enormous boulder into the cave which is the entrance to the catacombs and that boulder has, temporarily, halted the flow of air and ideas. I could remove it with some sort of explosion, but risk damaging some of the newer ideas currently making their way through the tunnels, sometimes stumbling over the ones currently lying dormant, and others, hooking up with similar beings who expand and flesh them out. I dare not upset the delicate balance right now.
Even my dreams last night and my meditation this afternoon were unnaturally quiet. Which begs the question: Is this what I’ve been doing to my mind all these years, working in an analytical, logical type of job so I could make ends meet? Is that why, when offered a task which requires more creativity than logic, my mind does its own version of a Free Ex gymnastics routine? Has remaining in my self-imposed bunker been something of a purgatory for this artsy fartsy brain which would love to just sit on a bench watching people walk by and making up stories about their lives?
For the next few days, I think I’ll let the child within come out and play and see what develops. Perhaps those childish games will find a way to simply make the boulder disappear.
My gratitudes tonight are:
1. I am grateful for bumps in the road and boulders in the cave entrance to remind me of what’s really important.
2. I am grateful for mid-week dinners with the kids.
3. I am grateful for furry children and grandchildren who remind me what unconditional love truly is.
4. I am grateful that it only took a day to clear my head of writer’s dread.
5. I am grateful for two nights of dancing coming up.
Love and light.,