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  • Elizabeth Bartasius

The Season of Filling the Well


Guilt is precious.

It can ride our ass and snap the whip just hard enough to entice production.

I've felt guilt.

I've produced what I should.

And produced what was expected, what I agreed to.

I've ticked all the boxes.

I'm proud.

It was a good season.

The season of production.

Now, I'm spent.

I want to write for you, I do.

I want to send profound messages, or silly ones.

But before I can put words to paper,

At least, meaningful words,

Meaningful to either you or me,

I must fill the well.

I must...

Stand at a precipice and imagine cliff diving.

Rock out at a concert and wake up with ears ringing.

Drive across the Golden Gate bridge.

Eat Indian dal with my fingers as a spoon.

Take "soul" walks, by myself, and hug trees.

Snub art in shi-shi, big city gallerys.

Most importantly, delete all the "shoulds" from the calendar.

In short, I must wander.

And on my wanders, I must wonder.

The season of wondering.

Only then does the mind release the habit of burning through to-dos.

The creative well fills.

Ideas and flow return.

And writing happens again.

Lovely, fulfilling writing.

Fulfilling for you or for me.

Like magic.

Therefore, I will be offline wandering and wondering this summer, but will return in a month or so.

Until then, embrace the season.

Elizabeth

P.S. Even a day of wonderment, even a hour, does a soul good.


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