I wonder what today will be.

~ a total blank slate ~

anticipatory, unknowing

Who am I today?

Who am I here?

I hope, I feel

I am excited.

~ an adventure ~

I wonder what I will decide.

being as present as possible so I can absorb as much as possible

I can’t take it all in.

~ bubbling ~

Something has opened.

~ explore ~

What’s possible in this body?

I had a major creative block when it came time to write this week. I post on Wednesdays. It is Friday. Wednesday evening, at the end of a long day, I sat down to churn something out. It did not churn. I felt completely disconnected from my creativity. I forced myself to sit at the computer, typing up choppy strands that didn’t add up, frustration and angst mounting. While I ground my gears fruitlessly, I was boiling beets I had just bought for a much needed healthy meal. Before I knew it, something smelled weird. I kept grinding. Eventually, the smell worsened and I forced myself up. All the water had evaporated and the pot sat on the stove heating four scorched beets in a cloud of black foam.

I wasn’t in the headspace. I wasn’t in the bodyspace. I had waited until the last minute and then the last minute came and I couldn’t. I was really sad. I was really angry. I had nothing left in the tank. Not only had I not made enough space to write something, I hadn’t made enough space for myself in general. I felt myself running on empty as I dragged myself through my commitments and hoped for the best. But it came back to bite me, as it always does. And my apartment smelled like burnt beets for 48 hours to remind me.

Thankfully, I had yesterday off. I got a massage. It changed my life. I felt completely reborn and committed to preserving the S P A C I O U S N E S S I had just recovered. Today, a new moon, I effortlessly found myself creating a blackout poem from old morning pages. This is how I want it to feel. But in order for it to feel effortless, the work I have to put in is holding space. Noticing when I need it, and making it happen. Saying a clear, firm and loving “No.” when the grinder wants to keep grinding. “I know you don’t want to, but it’s time to stop. Your beets are burning.”