You'll Make It Back

On good days, I write more than scribbled bullet points on post-its. I get to madly write vignette after vignette, some haiku, a few drafts to a story, multiple journal entries. Maybe I'll even throw in a report or two to put a smile on my favorite client's face. All in a day. Good days.

That's not always the case. There are moments when the writing bug is mellow. Quick journal entries and a few ideas to get started on the paperwork. Half-done reports. Moving at a slower pace. I'm not complaining, it's all still good.

But some days really hit different.

Nothing flows. The well has run dry. Not a word. Nada. Tabula rasa.

If you engage in any creative endeavor–poetry, song writing, painting, theatre, dance, cinema, anything that demands a creative process, maybe you know firsthand how it feels to have to walk away from your own craft. You want to make something. You need to make something. Something truly, really good. But nothing comes out unless you walk away. Or maybe the creative force has walked out on you. It doesn't matter, it's gone anyway.

It's terrifying because you can never really tell when you'll come back. Each day that passes just adds to the feeling of drifting farther and farther away.

When that happens, remember that you’re a phoenix. You’ll make it back. 

When that happens, remember that you're the sun rising after a long, dark night. You'll make it back.

When that happens, remember that you are love itself, never really gone. You'll make it back.