"Wow," I thought, "that's one tough thing to do."
The past few weeks have been rough. No particular reason ~ everything on the outside is going well: work, family, finances, even the weather. Yet ~~ yet ~~ I had no motivation to write my blog posts. I'd been doing so well ~ and recently found my brain more void than fruitful. Every time I attempted to write, I'd reach a spot where the words stopped flowing. Or I'd fall asleep. Or I couldn't stop looking at something useless and trivial online.
It wasn't that words weren't there. It was that I couldn't quite access them. As though I was reaching through a fog toward an unseen and unknown spot.
That's who I was in that moment. My belief in myself, in my ability to draw words onto paper, remained in tact. The surface itself was shifting following the direction of the wind. I settled in. I allowed my deepest center to hibernate, to find rest and ease, to settle into the rhythm of the coming winter.
Allowing the space for that to happen isn't easy. I want more to happen; I want to move, to create, to feel the lightness of what's within me bubbling out. Recently, though, it's less a bubbling and more a slow drip.
As the Winter Solstice approaches, I feel that inner compass turning toward the stronger sun. I'm thrilled to feel the pull.
What do you do when your creativity rests? What does it mean for you to "be yourself"? How do you let go of the "shoulds"? What do you feel when you do?
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