Resistances confront you. Anxiety sets in, when you become conscious, of how much you are avoiding preparation. The sheer thought of writing, shuts you down. You get stuck trying to prove to yourself, that you still got it. The proving ground, enlarges, each blade of turf standing on end, just waiting for the 'cleat' of inspiration to crush it. Yet, no indentation occurs. Only a silent breeze, causing it to waver. Both extremes present themselves, they always show up. All in or avoidance.You can let things percolate, which seems lazy and evasive, or you can ninja attack it. However, too many swipes at open air, not making contact, can set things, even more off course. There are many tough drill instructors out there, ready to redirect and guide you. But, you have to be your own. That is the only way innovation can set in.
Something has been afoot recently, not distraction per se, but a density that feels suffocating. You need general maintenance. A reboot. A shut down. This is the only way to hear the ping...ping...ping.. in the fog. The only way that your crucible can be resolved. You breathe in deeply, taking in the ether. Lessons come in the ether. Ideas linger there. You have to grab them before they go away. You have to be open to the experience. If you proceed with precision, like a scientist, you may miss it. You have to find the spot of relaxation, calmness, flexibility. Inspiration can be deep inside, swirling a mile a minute, but if you are dissecting it, rather than inhaling it, it can become sterile. You have to let go, to not prepare so much, that accidents don't happen. When you are too dialed in, you often get a busy signal. Accidents are opportunities, that allow beauty, to find its way to you.
If you give yourself thirty choices. you will always be disappointed. you will second guess your choice. But if you limit yourself to three, you are more focused and wind up more satisfied. Choice is necessary, we all desire options and preference, but when over-stimulated, by franchise and selection, we get blinded. The ether is not precise, nor is it filled with advertisements or claims of betterment. It is merely a celestial center, in which our thoughts can find their voice. It is a cosmos of opportunity, based on what we can identify in the moment. If we struggle within it, it will dissipate. If we lean in, it will be a comforting blanket, of hope and direction, that will inevitably bring in to focus an idea, a creative notion, a moment of clarity.
This week my ether was no where in sight. I got lost, not in a focused fog, but a quagmire of indecision, distraction and murk. Each step was viscous and glutinous- slowing my every musing, to a syrupy, sludgy pace. I could only function in automatic pilot. I did not Tweet, blog or even read ferociously, as I tend to do. It is Thursday tomorrow and I am just now, starting to see the wispy entrance of my ether. The filaments are emerging, from the darkness and an awakening is taking place. I can see the revelation. Burn out is real. Fatigue will conquer fortitude, if we allow ourselves to be weakened, with too much responsibility. Sometimes there is nothing we can do, but to let it. To abdicate, to its charm. Escape is very inviting. We all need to be rescued at times, from our overzealous nature. Our minds have to go dark. But, after a personalized, well-deserved remedy, we bounce back. I am finally bouncing back.
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