I have started no fewer than 6 blog posts in the last 7 days to reintroduce myself to longer writing after this daily poetry stint (it’s not over, I just feel called to write differently) and I am struggling. Mightily, I might add. I can’t put my finger on why it’s so difficult, but I’m promising myself I’m simply going to publish this piece whether or not I feel it’s complete. I think my struggle isn’t so much in how to write but in what to write about. In refocusing the lens of my creativity toward the micro, to explore the poetry slant over this last month or so (in an attempt to find gratitude for the tiniest things in life, a trick I’ve learned to stop depression from flirting with me), I’ve realized that there are more things in each moment of our lives to write about than I will ever be able to fully explore, and that makes me feel sad and neglectful of my life. Odd, isn’t it? So many people don’t sit to write because they say they have nothing to write about, and here I am saying there are too many things to write about, which is why I can’t write. Syzygy at its best.
So I think I’ll let it go, the way I have learned in my meditation practice to allow feelings to flow, resisting the urge to attach to any one of them, and accept that I am going to write whatever I feel and let that be what it is without succumbing to the guilt of what I am not able to write.
I’ll be darned. That feels complete. But you know me, I have more thoughts on this, so we’ll explore those coming up. In the meantime, I’m curious: to my blogger and writer and general creative friends in the crowd–do you feel you don’t have enough to write about or too much to write when you procrastinate and avoid the page?