It’s been thirty-seven days since I’ve sat here, fingers poised over the keys. How strange. I can remember times when I wrote in Bruce’s Blog virtually every day for months. I developed a trust that words would come each time, that there’d be something helpful to say, at least helpful to a few folks. That was then. This is now.
It feels like my life is changing fast. I feel teaching coming back, teaching about we humans being together. I feel some things fading away … golf for instance. I still love the beauty of Tarandowah, a nearby gem of eighteen holes, but I no longer care about the swing and the score.
So where does writing show up in the swirl of today? If I sit quietly, writing is right here beside me on the couch. There’s a warmth, a “going towards” it, abiding with a friend. I don’t know why I’ve been silent for so long, and actually I’m not even interested in knowing.
There’s no momentum right now in having 300 words make a difference on WordPress and Facebook. Logically, it’s hard to restart after standing still for weeks. Or … maybe that’s not true, since 201 words have come and gone.
What if I tap away every day for the next week and see how that feels? Good idea, Bruce. I’ll do that. See you tomorrow.
6 thoughts on “Petering Out or Diving Back In?”
hello hello! so lovely to see your words in my in box this evening. just this past weekend I went looking for your words, thinking I was just no longer being notified…so so good. i prefer to think of writing, journaling or jottings and musings as more of an ebb and flow, sometimes there is flow…sometimes it ebbs 🙂 I am sure that is a word! hope all is well.
All is well, Donna. I’ve been ebbing. Perhaps I should flow again.
Interested to see how the pick-up process looks like after losing momentum. Wishing you all the best, and hope your daily-writing plan helps bring back the mojo!
Thank you, Stuart. I’m living in a mystery.
I am happy to see and read your words. They say nothing about covid and the elecks in america just words how give trust and hope. Thanks you Bruce miss you
Thank you for your kindness, Sabrine. I hope my words make a difference.