Love and writing, or is it rockets?

Echoes of laughter and tears bounce off of the images that fade as the coffee cools in front of me. Deep felt emotions zing through me and fly off into the dark sky of a cold morning. Quiet.

There are those times, you know them, that come more and more often as you grow older... when you are more connected to the world around you in a moment than you feel you ever have been. In that moment you are part of the time and space right around you, like a tree or a bird you are no longer human and tangled up in the unneeded complexity of what should be, you just are.

In those moments it seems so normal to just be what you are and create whatever you want to create, doesn't it? In those moments I am a writer, and I write whatever the universe wants created in that moment. A beautiful stream of images and emotions floods my mind and heart and words appear, banging on the inside of my eyes and crying to get out. Yet as soon as they hit the page their life seems to fade like a shooting star. I often wonder what the Gods had in mind when they made me a writer. I feel as though everyday is wasted that I don't write.. and yet there are so many days that go by without writing.
The reverie is broken by something loud usually.. usually kids or dogs who don't see the magnificent bubble of magick that I think is so obviously floating around me. They probably see my state of being as normal and wonder why I think it's so special!

Either way, I am left deflated and cold in that moment. The soap bubble of zen unity with the cosmic consciousness is broken and I'm just a mother, a wife, a manager, and a priestess again.. no longer am I the incarnation of the Gods writing to keep up with their inspirational song.

Laying there on the floor, flattened like Flat Stanley, I quietly wonder to myself if all artists endure this kind of cold, shocking ejection into the mundane world? And do they feel just as pathetic and one-dimensional when it happens as I do?

That entire experience is why I can't imagine writing for a living even though I know it's what the Gods want of me. I can't imagine ever having writing bringing the mundane into my awareness, only other things. Writing is sacred to me, and as such should be free. I will learn to integrate the freedom with the creative cycle and grow a new perspective in the coming years, but I felt it important to log where I am now --> Kind of a " YOU ARE HERE" thing that allows me to take ownership of my fears and therefore use them to organically grow a new point of view.

Inspired by a friend's lessons from Brighid, I am honoring the darkness that a seed lives in for months before it germinates. We are in darkness now.. and I'm planting a seed.