Nothing to see here.

I’m opposed to constant productivity. As in, my cells are against it (my brain is a little slower on the uptake). And our cells are made of stardust I’ve heard, so we must listen to their celestial wisdom.

I have nothing to say this week.
Absolutely nothing.

Usually when I write, it’s like a download.
It starts, and there is nothing I can do to stop it. If I have no writing implement with me when the inspiration strikes and the download begins, I walk around in public trying not to forget important bits by repeating key words over and over, like what I’m pretty sure most clinically sane people probably do.
“Chaos. Creativity. That time I got a punching bag… Chaos. Creativity. That time I got a punching bag… Chaos. Crea-…”
*Wave a thank you. Make my way across the zebra crossing*
”-tivity. That time I got a punching bag… Chaos.”

My inspiration is usually cyclical.
I often have seven different ideas in a short space of time, and then nothing for weeks.
So thankfully (sarcasm) past me created a scenario in which I promised weekly pieces to you my lovely readers. I’m contemplating ways to adapt this situation to suit my creative flow and my family commitments (like that one where I am a Mum 24/7) but I’m not there yet.

I don’t want to churn out nonsense. I don’t want you to spend your precious time and energy reading something just because I was meeting a quota. What a waste.
Also, forcing myself to sit and write is likely to create as many hemorrhoids as trying to birth a baby with no biological initiation, I’m certain.
Also. I hate it. And according to my wonderful therapist - you’re allowed to just not like things. Did you know this? I did not. It has been a massive revelation for me. You’re also allowed to just like things. Did you know that too? That you can just like and want things and you don’t have to run them through a validity scanner before acting on them? Truly groundbreaking.

So I don’t like forcing myself to birth writing pieces when they’re not ready to come.
More so, I trust the mystical inner workings of the universe.
And I trust myself.

Therefore, I’m not writing anything today.
Not a single word. Except all of these ones… this doesn’t count.

I have 130 drafts sitting on the website, an uncountable amount of notes in my phone, and even more on scraps of paper around the house.
But they are all sparks in the distance, that I haven’t caught the form of yet.
Some haven’t found their tone. For others still, the timing isn’t right.
I trust that I’m moving towards them and them towards me.
And one day, we’ll be close enough for me to capture them accurately and tenderly as their spirits wash over me.

Today’s not that day.
Today I’m not writing anything.

Today I have nothing to exhale.
I’m empty and a little fragile, and I can feel it and I am listening.
So instead, I inhale.
Fresh air, majestic landscapes, books, music, my people (not a cannibal reference)…

I allow myself the humanity of the yin season.
To recoup lost stores.
To process.
To receive.
To produce nothing.
To simply exist.

I hope you take this space when you need it too.
Let the earth spin, not your mind.
Everything is going to be just fine.
Your career.
Your family.
Your dreams.
They’ll all survive your downtime.
And once you’ve inhaled, the exhale will inevitably come.
You can trust yourself and the cycles that keep us alive.

Rest up.

x
Lysette