When you are in the flow of things… Writing. Painting. Making things… Everything seems easy. The work just comes to you…
Well, for me, it more like flows through me…
Either way, it doesn’t feel like work at that point. It is more like breathing. Like blinking. Auto… Automatic? Autonomic?
It just happens… Until it doesn’t.
Sometimes the climb becomes too steep. Sometimes the elephant is too big to eat. Sometimes your emotional state blows up and the flow is… well it is just gone. There is a big gaping hole where it was, which quickly gets filled up with garbage.
Fear. Anger. Anxiety. Depression. These speed bumps turn into barricades and it can take a minute to dig yourself out of that mess.
So here I am. Digging.
