Today morning when I sat down at my desk to write, I stared at the blank page and nothing happened. I couldn’t think of anything to write without the fear of repetition. It happens when I have so many thoughts and ideas cooking in my head that I fail to pick one and stick to it. And today morning is no exception. Writer’s block? Definitely.
Anton Chekhov wrote:
“If you want to work on your art, work on your life.”
I like to believe that my life right now is better than it was a year or so ago. The pain is still there and the feeling of emptiness is so profound sometimes that I feel lost. But when people ask me how I feel and I say I’m okay.
Julia Cameron writes:
“Okay is a blanket word for most of us. It covers all sorts of squirmy feelings; and it frequently signals a loss. We officially feel okay but do we?”
I stop and think. Am I really okay? If so then why don’t I feel that emotional link with any of the ideas I have at the moment? Why can’t I choose a topic and start writing? It’s like my mind is everywhere and nowhere at the same time.
Every time that I think I have overcome a difficulty of some sort, every time I think I can start to write because all is behind me, I am forced to face yet another problem. It’s like being on a roller coaster ride with no end.
Despite all I try to remain positive. But at the end of the day I am back to where I started. I feel constricted and powerless. Have I changed? Has my perception of life changed maybe? I believe that only the moment we are in is promised, and that we should always live it.
“All the arts we practice are apprenticeship. The big art is our life.” M. C. Richards