Touching base

I stopped writing awhile ago. There was no plan, no catalyst that I can put my finger on. I just stopped. I suppose I am experiencing some kind of post-partum depression from having gotten my thesis done and there is no literary Sword of Damocles hanging over my head at the moment. I have come to the blank page often in the last month and just as abruptly walked away from it. There have been many occasions in which I have thought, "I need to write about this or write about that," but to no avail. Peter Elbow in "Writing Without Teachers" says I should just sit down and write. Write anything. Just so I’m writing. This is the first time I have heeded that call and actually written something, anything. And it’s not going well. It’s like trying to get the Harley started after a long, cold winter of lethargy. It coughs and sputters, and sometimes needs a change of plugs, but eventually it gets going and warms to the task. I’m still in the coughing and sputtering stage.

Perhaps it’s because of the long, cold winter we have just experienced, I don’t know. Perhaps I’m still hung over from Holy Week and Easter, which always sap the last little bit of energy from clergy. Perhaps it’s the ongoing struggle between the immortal 18 year old I thought I was and the mortal 56 year old I am discovering I am. Life is a little ambiguous these days, and I suppose that’s okay. Sometimes we are called to just muddle through life for a time, looking for the next window through which to fly.

So here I am, just checking in. Nothing profound to say. Nothing even ordinary. Just checking in...still alive...and perhaps that’s enough for now.

7:35:10 AM   Lay some on me []