unmowngrass

It's alarming to realise, sometimes, how deeply things degenerate without attention. Habits of the mind become so entrenched, so difficult to change. Even whilst you're in workshops reminding you that it's possible.

Cry, out of agitation, when all your people are all up in your face, no space to breathe, trying to run your life. How they cut you and try to pour themselves into the gap.

Cry again, with desperation, when they take their own space to avoid you. When they stop letting you cut them in return. (No-one's perfect.)

Cry about this, cry about that, cry about the other thing.

It is alarming to wake up one day and see that you've just been really, really miserable for a long, long time.

Things lose their meaning, and the longer the void stretches on, the deeper it gets.

As the colour runs out of your world, eventually even tv gets boring.

When this happened to me recently, I was all out of everything, no inspiration to be found.

Nothing.

Empty.

And in the emptiness, there is only instinct. Instinct gives you only one option:

make the current run the other way. 

Stop consuming; create.

For the first time in a long time, I picked up a musical instrument.

And I'm not very good at playing it yet, and I didn't do it for very long, and nor did I write the tune, but I did play it!

And for ten minutes...



... I was happy.