I am having an astronomically hard time sitting still. It's not that I have an abundance of energy, it's just that my little soul is restless for whatever reason. It could be the weather, the season, the lack of sunshine, the four walls and a roof. It could be something to do with the moon. Doesn't it always have something to do with the moon? The moon, the sun, the stars. They all rule us so powerfully in their subtle ways that we don't even notice it. It might be time for us to notice more.
My brain just hit a wall at full force.
Okay, my brain bounced back. It's not producing anything terribly insightful, but it is reminding me of how bad I am at Christmas presents. It would be a lot easier to be good at gift giving if one had, you know, money. I just need to be creative! I just need to get all crafty and make reindeer out of toilet paper rolls or something! That's what people do, right? Make things and feel satisfied and productive and accomplished and happy and so happy and never ever sad or overwhelmed or crushed beneath the weight of past regrets? Okay, that's what I thought. That's cool.
But I haven't been "creative" in what feels like close to ten years. TEN years. I used to make zines. I used to create collages. I used to stitch and paint and sketch and paste. I could and would do so much. Now I just feel dull and a little lost; or rather, I feel like I've lost something. I have a fear I don't often think about (because, well, it's kind of scary to think about what scares you) that the height of my creativity was in my 20s. The height of everything was in my 20s. In other words, I've peaked. Or so I think. Or not think about, but still sorta think about. So am I now resigned to a vacuous existence? I guess there could be a few positives to such a life. I guess I'll be able to enjoy nuggets and nachos a lot more or whatever.
Maybe a walk with the sun in my face will quiet my fears. Worth a try.