Every once in awhile, my muse goes on strike. Try as I might to coax her into a writing mood, she digs her heels in and scoffs at me. I hate to admit that it takes this drama to call my attention to the fact that I haven’t been taking care of her needs. “Reflection time!” She emphasizes in frustration and disbelief that I’ve neglected it, yet again. “Is that too much to ask for?!,” she fumes, “Regular quiet time to renew and replenish my soul!”

That’s when I realize I’ve been pushing the envelope for too long, deluding myself that all was fine. I never really get away with it, even though, in the moment I can easily justify skipping just one more day…

Even as I reestablish a quiet time routine after our move and being sick, it’s not as easy as sitting down and picking up where I left off. It’s more like when my husband teaches me a new program on my computer and I don’t take the time to practice what he’s taught me right away. A couple weeks later, I need to use that new program and I’ll be darned if I can remember the sequence he taught me. I struggle with it till, sheepishly, I call on his patience once again, to walk me through the steps.

Writing is a lot like that, for me. Unless I maintain that connection to my soul, the well dries up. If I’ve gotten side-tracked or neglected to prime the pump, when I come to fill my cup, the one drop that eventually plops in has evaporated by the time the second one appears. There is significant effort needed to get the well primed to produce a flow of water again.

After a lot of busyness, my mind is like a popcorn popper, with ideas and thoughts popping in from all over the place. The effort of sitting in quiet to reflect is akin to trying to maintain calm after having had three cups of coffee. It is through sheer effort that I glue my posterior onto the chair and make myself write… even if it’s nonsense in the beginning, which it usually is! But just showing up and working at it, regardless of the result, primes the pump so that eventually the mud gets replaced with muddy drops, which eventually get replaced with murky water, which after significant pumping, then gets replaced with a full flow of clear water.

What I continue to be reminded, which applies to anything worthwhile in life, is that I must show up to do the work, one way or the other. Either I continue to prime the pump daily, which requires the least effort, or I must do the work all at once, which feels more like pushing a boulder uphill. I know that if I devote consistent time to reflection, not only can I avoid future strikes, but I will more easily access the wellspring within.

~Zanne

InSearchOfAuthenticity.com

© 2017 Zanne