I haven’t written for a couple of months. Spirit put me on sabbatical. In other words, my creativity dried up like parchment. I felt like I had nothing to say of any value. I have become deafeningly mute.
Is it easy for a writer to be silent? NO! I struggled and I fought with such stillness. I tried to trick my creativity into giving up the goods – a word, a Haiku, a scrap of dialogue – anything! I tickled her. I yelled at her. I cried. I pleaded – all to no avail. I remained absolutely empty.
Finally, in frustration and loneliness to hear the words in my heart, I turned and faced the Silence.
It was a big vacant space – nothing but an empty room with a few dust bunnies in the corners. The paint was peeling. The room was dingy and smelled like old moldy gym clothes. I stood in that space that had once been filled with alliterations and laughter. Before this sabbatical, there had actually been lines of imagery waiting to be allowed into the festivities. Now, there was nothing but the beating of my heart in a solemn dirge-like cadence.
My butt landed on the scratched hardwood floors with a very loud thud. My derrière ached as my brain raced. I had to figure this out. Still nothing – not a blessed thing! Maybe if I were to lie down and press my ear to the floorboards I could, at least, hear the ghosts of my past. An anecdote might sneak through the veil and save me.
Days dragged on and – nothing. I gave up. In Spiritual language, I surrendered.
The outdoors called so I went for a walk hoping the trees would speak to me. They did. We chatted. It was very cordial and light. No insights. No inspiration. I walked. Perhaps Mother Water would take pity on me and quench my thirst for creativity. She spoke. She was kind and let me know it was good to see me again. Yet, there was not one solitary splash of inspired thought in my heart or even my head.
I went home, surfed the waves of imbecilic blather. Magazines waved their slick pages at me and I ignored their shinny seduction. I was as petulant as a bored two-year old. Sleep wouldn’t even give me a break. The only thing left to do was household chores. I was in a very bad place – or so it felt.
I managed a few chores; some dishes, laundry…this and that. I began to smile. A sense of accomplishment crept in from some unfamiliar place. I mused. I chuckled at myself.
But, still no spark. I did feel more centered so I cracked open the door to the room of creativity. It didn’t look quite as dingy. There was one ray of sun illuminating the dust bunnies. As my eyes searched the room, the door slammed shut in my face! I was lucky my nose was still attached. My Spiritual team loudly encouraged to do something other that worry about what was not. Hmmm…
I went to the gym. I worked out. My trainer noted that I had more energy and my form was much more stable. – What did this mean? Did it have anything to do with my imposed sabbatical? Was something actually shifting inside of me with all this silence?
As I walked home across the end of the pond, I noticed a little movement in my heart. Hmmm … again. I almost smiled. Could I be coming out of creative exile? No. Not yet. This was getting terribly boring and that is really the point.
Every so often, we need to stop, take a sabbatical and re-boot. Periodically, as I have come to realize, it is necessary to catch up with myself. I need to rest until the weariness of life evaporates from my cells, the muddle in my brain clears out and there is again a strong sense of “rightful place in the world.” And this “every so often” seems to actually mean, well – regularly.
No, I am not 100%. I know I am better because I am able to write this. I am so happy that my fingers are having trouble typing. They want to do the happy dance across the keyboard. My wonderful Spirit guides have told me that the “rest” is not over. I am coming to the end so it is especially important that I go slowly, not rush, as I tend to do, turn off my brain and get back to walking. They equated my experience to a baking cake that still needs a little more time in the oven so as not to be gooey in the middle.
I miss you all. I hope you are having a great end of the year. I look forward to having something to offer you very soon.
Peace, out!