Who is it that can make muddy water clear?
But if allowed to remain still, it will gradually become clear of itself.
–Tao Te Ching
I’m in that uncomfortable, fallow place between writing projects—the inevitable spell after completion when I have no clue what comes next, no force pushing my writing forward, and grave doubts that writing will ever again light my inner fire. I’m done, or so it seems. The time I usually reserve for writing gets cluttered on good days with blogging (a-hem!), reading, and mucking around in my journal; on bad days I ditch my discipline entirely and repaint the kitchen. I’m aimless. I grump at my partner, at the cat. I’m empty. I miss the deep absorption of a project, when my whole being is engaged in creation and effort fills the empty house like a warm, rising balloon. Continue reading