For the past week or so I have had nothing to say, nothing at all to write about. I’ve been flicking through books, hoping to find some inspiration, even just a pithy quote, but nothing has spoken to me. And I simply haven’t had the energy to think deeply or constructively about anything.
This is a frustrating state to be in.
Though recently I read Corina Duyn’s blog post about acceptance, which was just what I needed at the time. In it she says:
I find that when I accept whatever is happening, I can let it be, and find an ease I do not experience when I keep 'fighting'.
This is what I am endeavouring to do at the moment. I cannot force myself to work, but must simply settle back into this situation, and let it be what it is.
Of course, I’d like to be writing. I’m months behind with a series of stories I have been working on since Samhain last year. I wonder if I will ever finish it—or if I will ever write a story again! This is the kind of disheartenment that can arrive when nothing is achieved, when inspiration is absent, and even my normal interest in the world is dulled.
Kat Duff’s comments in The Alchemy of Illness (1993) spring to mind:
Living with a chronic illness, in which some days are better than others, constantly reminds me that my mood and outlook follow the swings of my energy level with uncanny precision. (p. 8)
This is certainly the case with me. When my energy levels are better, I dwell within possibility; when they are low, I languish. There is little I can do, little I want to do, and I feel utterly lost to myself.
All things pass, but when will this pass? I ask the universe. When will inspiration return? When will I be strong again?
I can only accept this set of circumstances, and wait it out.