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.
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.
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.
Therefore, I will be offline wandering and wondering this summer, but will return in a month or so.
Until then, embrace the season.
P.S. Even a day of wonderment, even a hour, does a soul good.