My muse has been like those flowers, hiding in the shadows of fallen leaves, using them as shelter against the endless rain of winter, and the occasional snow or frost.
Why is it I feel more alive when the sky is blue and the light of the sun breaks through the mist to caress my face? I simply do.
Why is it I feel more alive when I engage in my music, my writing, or the creation of art? I simply do.
But, then, why is it I avoid those things that make me feel more alive? My own 'busy-ness' and scatteredness propel me away from simple things like walking, journaling, singing, writing, taking moments to stop and breathe. To be present.
We seem to be wired to avoid and procrastinate. And then, beat ourselves up for it.
The only way to change that, is to simply do.
I suggest, do those 'alive' things first. Ease into them with something nice (I'll sit down to write, but first I will make a cup of Earl Grey hot, just like I like it. And drink it mindfully). Then do the 'alive' thing you've promised yourself you will do.
"Almost everything will work again if you unplug it for a few minutes ... including you." — Anne Lamott
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