When it's all turned off

It’s late, (well it’s dark), it’s quiet, and I’m hanging suspended between sitting here and going out to the dining room to tackle the mail and bills I usually address on Tuesdays. When I’m not feeling particularly inspired is when I start hovering between rooms. I do this out of hopefulness. Tomorrow, I might be really inspired, so if I get the mail-chore out of the way tonight (when I’ve got nothing much going on creatively), then tomorrow I’ll have more time.

It is probably no wonder that I value the creative spark so highly since, when it’s missing, I go to my least favorite tasks.

I didn’t get up and go to the dining room. I came instead to the blog where, sometimes, writing without inspiration I hit upon something worth sharing. And sometimes don’t.

The thing is, is that it’s the idea of “hitting on something worth sharing” that bogs me down often enough. I think it’s why we write blogs and e-mails and short quips back and forth. The pressure is off.

I go to bed.

I get up in the morning. It’s dark. It’s quiet. It’s early. Everything is off. This is sacred time.