Another week

Another week and some but not enough progression. I could go on and tell all the reasons I used for not writing as much as I should have, but the end result is that I didn't. I certainly don't lack the desire or stories, really I think I lack the inner contentness. My mind is always spinning in so many different directions but it's not just distractions as I previously thought for there will always be distractions - I am not content.

It could likely be said a lot of writers have been discontent or even use those times to encapsulate the very basis of their stories. Yet how do they pull that from their head and put it down on paper? I feel like I'm reaching but everything is out of reach. I don't stop reaching, believing or dreaming, but how long will that go on before I can really feel what I want... Find the contentness that I really desire.

How is that poem ends... In the end there's nothing, and so reality fades.

But I will not end this blog on that note. There is fresh snow outside and like all things nature I am drawn to it. Even just to take the shovel and clear the driveway will give me the fresh air I need to clear my mind. I may complain about the winter from time to time, but I would miss the snow. There is an element of newness to it as it covers up everything dirty and I feel comforted by it like an old blanket fresh from the dryer. The crisp air dances with me and I let go of all the negative energy, and as the snowflakes touch my nose I am taken back to childhood days when everything was magical.

I just want everything to be magical again.

So on that note, I will go shovel and clear my mind and then get in some writing.