“What’s wrong with you? Why aren’t you writing?” My inner Critic has her finger wagging at me this morning because it has been six weeks since I wrote a blog entry.
In fact, I haven’t been writing much of anything lately, though I did manage with some effort to put out my monthly newsletter the beginning of the month.
It is not for lack of ideas that swirl around and through my mind, but none have become words on a screen, except for the necessity of daily emails. There is an inner ferment that I don’t comprehend and it is easily kept hidden.
Summer is the perfect time to take a break from doing anything. Half of my neighbors are gone vacationing, for example. I have grown an amazing bronze just from enjoying our condo’s pool.
People who see me ask if I have just returned from vacation. “No,” I say, “I work from home and take my lunch hour at the pool.” How blessed am I!
Still, I am aware of thoughts and ideas that will eventually seek life on a page. And if I ever hope to produce the book that is inside me, I’ll have to find a disciplined rhythm of writing that will permit others to share in what is arising in me instead of hoarding them within me.
So I celebrate this day by valuing the fermenting inside me and offer my intention to climb over the resistance and petty excuses for not writing even a few paragraphs every day, something of the awareness that is bubbling up within me.
Today I am waking and stirring. Tomorrow I intend to wake and stretch.
