Dear friends,

Dear Friends,

This is my funk.  I am two days shy of being exactly one month from when I wrote, I hear everything you aren’t saying…the last time I was firmly planted in writer’s block. I was sitting on my porch, stuck and writing in my journal and then that poem came.  I’ve been writing ever since with more regularity than ever before.  Yet, here I sit.  Blocked.  I’ve tried it all.  I’ve journaled, I’ve read, I’ve searched inspirational quotes, I’ve reviewed notes, I’ve deleted, I’ve rewritten…nada.  So, I’m writing to you instead, a letter.  And to be honest…I still have just about nothing.

I have no idea what is in my way.  Okay.  That’s not true.  I’m struggling with my ability to be honest again.  It isn’t that I’m lying to you about anything- I’m not.  It’s that, ironically, I’m not saying anything- Can you hear that?  Can you hear everything that I’m not saying?  I can’t tell you what is weighing so heavy on my mind because I don’t want to hurt anyone.  I don’t want to be wrong.  I don’t want to regret.  I’m afraid that if I say what I want to say, the focus will be sucked up by everyone else involved and taken from me…yes- taken.  I’m afraid that if I say what’s on my mind, if I speak of what I want, I will somehow lose what I have.  I’m so twisted up inside.

Breathe.  That’s what I need to do.  I love the quote that says, in doing nothing, nothing goes undone…I need that to be true right now because I don’t know what to do except not do what I’ve always done.  I’m back at staying.  I’m letting it be.  I’m neck deep in discomfort and anxiety, resentment, maybe a tinge of anger, a splash of guilt…what Pema refers to as “half faith”.  I am of half faith.  I’m praying with one hand- Please be the other hand.

I’m of the opinion that bad writing is better than no writing at all.  I wouldn’t say this is bad…I’d say it’s just…not my best work.  It’s not even work.  This isn’t work, this is just me and the process that I have to sometimes take to get to the work.  This is all of I got.


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