I’m sitting on the ground, trying my best to get as comfortable as I can possibly get. I discovered a while back how much I love to be closer to the ground. It takes me back to my childhood and so I’m the oddball who prefers the ground to a sofa or chair.
I’m sitting on my magical sitting cushion, ready to type something on my computer. I feel my body relax and here it comes. I’m about to write, but in all my efforts, I fall flat on my face. Why can’t I write something that makes sense? Why can’t I get in the right mood to write something? Anything at all? I love to write, but I’m constantly met with these barriers, making me question if I ever even enjoyed writing. What am I left with? A jumbled brain, incapable of forming something decent? I give up. I turn off my laptop and feel debilitated. It might take a few hours, days, weeks, or months until I feel I can write again.
When the time comes, I give it another shot and I find myself typing away, focused and happy to have found my rhythm, hoping to keep it that way.