Winter State

Well it’s been one of those weeks, where I want more than anything else to create till I can’t see straight, but instead it’s been slow going. It’s interesting because I’m not stumped in terms of where my story is going but it's still a painfully slow progress. I have ideas abounding for paintings but I haven’t been able to bring myself to start one. It’s been a weird week, where I want to create but there’s something that’s getting in the way, something in my head or heart. 

I have made some process on the writing, its not like nothing has happened, but it’s just been a bit of a fight to focus and stay tuned into the story. Something about the changing of the seasons and something about the nature of the season of my life has me stumbling around in a fog. 

I long to sit and stare at the trees under the watchful gaze of the waking sun. I feel pulled to the sea and to listen to its lessons. I think the restlessness of spring has found me and it distracts me from my contemplative winter state. You could say its the waking from the winter slumber, but I just feel shaken and overwhelmed. I want to run through the hills and be free in the wild flowers, not sat at a desk typing words into a screen. Which isn’t fully honest, I want to write my story and I also want to lie in the grass drinking in the smell of it. 

In my more youth like days I chased after summer days and damed the return of winter. Now I long for the bright days to stay away for just a little longer, to remain in the stillness of winter and catch my breath just that much more. I welcome winter in with a hug but hang my head at the sight of summer approaching. 

Something in the nature of nature slips between the cracks in my bones and take up residence, making a home out of a wound and distracting me. I just want to rest awhile longer, not be dragged out into that big and beautiful world full of twists and turns. 

I suppose my introverted-ness, my hermit like qualities, have come out to take up arms and fight for the right to lead a quiet life. It’s a silly thought, a silly picture, but just the other night I said to my parents “I never stood a chance did I. I was never going to lead a quiet simple life, you didn’t set us up for that did you?” And it wasn’t a pointed finger, wasn’t a criticism or angry statement, it was said with a sigh of resignation and acceptance, that perhaps life could still be good when not lived in the shadows. 

I have had much to think and feel as of late and it is what’s gotten in my way. Because I can not preach what I do not practice and to write a character who is going through it leaves me no room to be apathetic. And I haven’t been truly lazy to my feelings, just weary of the journey. 

So, its been an awfully strange week but I wouldn’t have it any other way. Because vanilla smells great, taste awful alone, and makes cookies magical, it’s hard to have the mountain without the moll hill. One step forward is just that much further, and I have miles to go before its all said and done.