It’s been a rather difficult day. The gray hues of the world around me seemed to somber my mind in a way that is familiar but not all together productive. Reneging on my daily promise to write my Morning Pages, I found myself curled up on the couch, clutching to the warmth of my comforter, and watching Dexter.
As the day progressed, my sister called and forced me to get dressed. Much to the dismay of my inner desire to stay a vegetable in front of my laptop, I went with her to run her daily errands. We talked some, about friends that have come and gone, and our own family issues. Once finished with all the running around, we made a pit stop at panera and headed back to her house.
This is the sad part, I’m sitting here writing to you a play by play of my day, instead of unleashing the creative spirit that’s stored under lock and key. I realize, however, that not doing my Morning Pages leaves me with a sense of longing. It is creative withdrawal.
Alas, the night is not yet over and maybe in writing the truth here I can acknowledge and let go of the barriers fencing my creative spirit in. I have plenty of fodder stored away in this over sized cranium, I should be able to pull something out, though it feels like it will be like pulling a rabbit out of a hat. Let you know if I am indeed magical.