Nothing. I have nothing I want to say. Nothing. My thoughts are as empty as the space between a buffoon’s ears. The dramatic narrative of life is unfolding around the world and nothing has compelled me to write. This feeling is beyond writers block, it is a bewildering blankness.
Imagine an astonishingly talented tenor exquisitely coiffed and adorned awaiting the beginning of his career defining solo, the curtain is raised, he steps onto center stage, the orchestra’s prelude prepares the audience, his mouth opens and nothing. Nothing.
Life has a rhythm and we are best served by letting the rhythm flow. Some days we feel as though God has given us full permission to be joyous beyond belief. All of our talents and gifts are on wondrous display. Every cell in our body moves in efficient syncopation and we are at our best. Other days we imagine Satan sitting on our chests and the world seems disheveled and unwelcoming.
I have come to accept that everyday will not be as I might wish. I have surrendered to the realization that some days I will be terribly off. For no apparent reason, I will not be able to produce anything useful, beautiful or meaningful. On those days, I confront my humanness and am reminded that I am like everyone else despite a quest for flawlessness. It is liberating to embrace my imperfection and yield to the rhythm of life. Gradually, I am re-inspired to put pen to paper an offer anew my thoughts.
I had to trust that I would write again…