I am forcing myself to sit down. Write. Think. Ponder. I have been quite physical lately, sculpting out my imagination with my hands. It has been very rewarding. I really did not know I had it in me, to landscape. I can do it for hours, my thoughts working out plans as I go. It is like, intuitive scaping. And it has been a joy.
I have not thought too deeply these past few months, the tip of my shovel hitting dirt is going deeper then my mindful ramblings. So, here I am. Placing myself in front of my computer. Thinking. Thinking. Sigh. Thinking.
Am I empty?
I am mentally fishing around in my bottomless reservoirs of ponder. And, not one single nibble. No inspiring tug on my line. Nothing to chase, or to reel in. The waters are calm.
I shift into a more comfortable position in the corner of my used couch. I am facing the windows, with the lap top perched safely on my lap. Looking out, I see that the clouds are hung heavy in the sky, muted grays pressing against tall evergreens. And the landscape has been made fresh from an early morning rain storm. After five minutes of daydreaming in my perched position, I notice nothing is moving. Not a single quiver of a leaf on my maple tree. No limb bobbing lazily as if it is acknowledging my presence. It is just, still. Even the thick layer of clouds, they are moving so slow, they do not even appear to be moving at all. As if they are just painted into the landscape.
Suddenly, I have this urge to get going. I cannot sit here no longer at my lap top, thinking of things to say. I need to MOVE. And that is ….a different feeling for me. But, I have no time to ponder this new thing. I just need to, DO.
Perhaps the fishing will be better next time, you have to know when to reel it in and head to shore.
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