The cat sat on the mat.

Blocked. 

For the past few weeks I have found it very difficult to write, to take photos, to sing, to cook, to garden, to decorate, to imagine... to do anything that takes a spark of creativity. I either haven't had any time or the right kind of time to be creative. Nor the energy. My energy and time have been taken up by many things these past few months. New people, new things, new ways of doing things, new ways of sharing things, trying to get used to things, trying to forget things, remember things, keep things in control, keep things going, keep track of things. The thing is that with all those things I lose the "thing" that makes me be able to do all those things (while keeping my sanity). 

I am an introvert living an extroverted world. My normal day to day life at work and home requires me to be much more extroverted than is naturally comfortable for me and I require time by myself each day recharge my batteries. This is a difficult thing to accomplish when you are rarely alone. 

It starts slowly with a few minutes stolen here and a few more there. Five minutes with the camera in the garden. Another ten picking raspberries in the late evening sun. Time for a walk listening to nothing but the chirps of the birds and the rustle of the leaves stirred by the breeze. The quiet peace of the early morning before the house wakes up (except for the cat who likes to join me in my morning asanas), my feet firmly planted on my mat. Balance slowly restores and the cyclone of thoughts and feelings sort themselves through into some semblance of order. Small things are noticed through the camera lens once more. My body feels lighter, my step has more bounce. Maybe today I can write.

Once I am recharged I feel more balanced. Balance leads to happiness and happiness leads to creativity and creativity leads to contentment and contentment back to balance. The circle is complete. 

Unblocked

“What I try to do is write. I may write for two weeks ‘the cat sat on the mat, that is that, not a rat.’ And it might be just the most boring and awful stuff. But I try. When I’m writing, I write. And then it’s as if the muse is convinced that I’m serious and says, ‘Okay. Okay. I’ll come.’” — Maya Angelou