For anyone who wakes up in the morning and finds his or her mind a blank blob you will know what I mean when I say it happened to me today. Outside, it is semi-sunny and the air is packed with humidity. That’s how I picture my mind. It seems to be packed with a haze of humidity or something that is blocking my thinking process. I would be happy to just plop on the couch for the day but knowing by afternoon I would hate myself for wasting a day like that keeps me upright.
I try to remember the cliches about writing: ‘just do it,’ ‘you’re not a writer if you don’t write,’ ‘writing is not a hobby,’ and etc. So should I just go do something physical and hope that creative juices will begin to run? It worked quite by accident not so long ago for me. I cleaned out a big closet, shredded unnecessary papers for an hour (yes, I had that many in the closet) and discovered treasures among useless things hidden away. I separated useful stuff for someone else to be taken to Good Will, empty boxes that went to recycle and the rest was headed for the trash bin. You may question empty boxes. At the time of storage it made perfect sense. If I moved they would come in handy. I know, it sounds lame but it made sense at the time.
And, now I look around to see what else I can do that is meaningful. Oh, never mind. My mind is awakening and I have found several ideas to write about. And I didn’t have to take a long walk through humidity with summer heat creeping in. A huge relief for me. I am not a fan of summer.