I’ll write later, I say. This morning I said. Other tasks got chased after, some got lost in the shuffle, and to be honest the easiest thing in the world would be to not write at all anymore. I am in those slumps which journals, and diaries, and now blogs seem to find, where what has needed to be said, has been said, so either I press on through the dry spells or leave off completely.
It’s a discipline, pure and simple, writing and thinking. Forcing oneself to sit and scrape the thoughts is not ever going to be an easy task.
But, the fact of the matter, it seems the right thing to do, so that when days like this, like many over these last few week, come and I don’t write, I don’t share about the bats which were flying near the window chasing after bugs, or the chipmunk leaping high onto the bird bath “just like the big animals do”, or the color of incense-cedar feeling the drought, brown interspersed with green, or any of the other sights, then I am failing myself. No one else, there is no one else.
Once again… tomorrow.