| Writer's Block and Other Stuff (6/24/09) |
|
Well, I have been absent for a bit but not because of writer's block, although I have experienced it before and I am sure I will again. For me, writer's block happens when I forget where I put the key to the room that has all the words that I would like to use. I can hear them laughing, dancing and singing, playing joyfully as I stand outside, blocked off, denied access by none other than myself. I either cannot remember where I put the key/code or I am just being lazy and don't feel like looking for it. Either way, I am at a loss for words and until I can sit still for a minute or several and recall how to access those darn letters of the alphabet, I won't be able to let them out to play with me. There are days when I stand looking at that door, sighing in defeat and other days, I can walk over and turn the handle to find it was never locked in the first place.
So, while I sat around, distracted by life, caught in the spectrum where sadness resides, I decided to look through some of my past writings and I found an oldie but a goodie, in my humble opinion. So, please humor me while I humor myself and enjoy my welcoming in of 2009.
Welcome 2009!! You came in quietly, with no bells or whistles, no band playing. You just slid right in and the air crackled with the electricity you brought. No visible change, but definitely a physical presence was felt and yet not readily viewable to the naked eye. What does time mean anyway - what is a number of a year, a day, a month? The days flow along like the lines on a cardiogram, with the occasional out of the ordinary blip - those are the days to be remembered. Gliding along, until you you hit the pit in the ice, which causes you to stumble, sometimes falling to the ground and other times finding your balance before the tumble. Those are the days, the days that can change the direction of the cloud movement, or the direction of the rolling of a wave, however slight it may be. It is in these moments our next creation is born. If you are still enough, you can catch the butterfly on your hand, see that shooting star or watch that leaf fall from the tree. Be aware of everything, tune your senses so as not to miss any of it. After all, you are part of the creation, creating. It is your blank canvas, your unsculpted clay - breathe life into it. Take a deep breath and just blow. |

Comments