Every once a month or so I gather my particular thoughts here in this place.

Recently I have been wallowing in a perimenopausal soup of hormones, physical ailments and general emotional distress that make it challenging to string more than a few words together at once. I have attempted to write previous to to this entry and come up wanting — indeed, this is also not off to a particularly effervescent start.

Creative work has become more occasional than I would ordinarily like it to be — I cannot seem to muster up what it takes to enter that space. To wit:

I have a couple of canvases on the wall that I add paint to in five-minute intervals. I look in on an old poem that needs revising or jot down a sentence or phrase. I take a picture. I write the occasional missive here or recipe on Charm City Edibles.

I am trying to see this as a season, one that will change as seasons always do. That’s likely all the inspirational chatter I can summon here, for now. I don’t see it as my job these days to deliver either inspiration or life advice. I can barely find my ass with both hands just now, so the idea of dispensing wisdom is somewhat laughable.

Solvitur ambulando. Literally or figuratively, I suppose. So off I go.



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