Ideas feel so shiny and vast when they first sprout in your brainā like you could press your hands together in the praying position, lift them above your head, and dive right in. Then swim forever. The lines just keep diverging, splitting and breaking off into the new, and for once, you feel like youāre good for something again.
Elizabeth Gilbert said that ideas are alive and that they are their own entity themselves, separate from us but able to interact with us. They float around in their own realm, knocking on the doors of human collaborators to bring them to life in our world. Ideas can only manifest with the effort, openness, and willingness of its collaborator. When youāre too occupied with your mundane realities and arenāt able to accept the idea into your life, itāll eventually wave goodbye and move on to the next person.
All of this to sayā Iām feeling really odd today. Since I started writing more seriously, this is the longest break Iāve taken from it. What started as a quick break to recuperate from the most exhausting writing process Iāve ever been through has become something thatās spanned months longer than it was meant to be. And when I think hard about it, I realize it has nothing to do with a lack of ideas. In fact, there have been so, so many. Rather, itās owed to my own carelessness and inability to nurture these ideas, bring them to fruition. I sat down to write today and the ideas that felt so lush, gorgeous, and green, suddenly were rusted. I canāt tap into them anymore.
And now, something really weird is happening in my brain. I feel sad because Iām almostā¦ grieving these ideas I loved so much. They feel so, so far away from me. Theyāre not mine anymore. I sit down to try to work with them and itās like going somewhere entirely foreign. Me being the dramatic, sensitive person I am: Iām so down because of this!
I canāt lie and say that I havenāt been busy. For the first time, my life feels like it finally makes sense. I know what I want and what I need. And that took a lot of hard work. I was putting all of my energy there, so there really wasnāt much leftover to be used towards my writing (which takes up so much of me. When Iām writing, it feels like my soul is 75% comprised of the piece.)
I miss it, I miss it so much! I wish I didnāt get so much in my head about things and I wish I wasnāt such a perfectionist. Now that so much time has passed, I have the deep seated urge to come back with something outdoing myself even more than usual which is so silly, I know, but itās how my brain works.
Iām going to try to pull new things out of me, really work hard at it. Iāve understood that if you keep waiting for the perfect time to write, itāll never come.
I donāt do this much but I just had so much to get out of my head! I love you guys thank you for not forgetting about me x
