Quiet

He’s been quiet lately. The voice in my head. The voice that is, quite frankly, a bit nuts. Often compelling me toward darkness. Vacillating between escape strategies – sometimes into deep sadness. Other times into manic self-sabotaging fantasies. And, more often than not, he’s also been my muse.

He’s been quite lately. And so have I. Quite in a good way. Calm. At peace. But also quiet in a discomforting way. Directionless. And, to be honest, uninspired. I feel conflicted. Should I embrace the silence and the peace it brings me in my daily life? Or should I stir up the pot a bit? Disrupt the mundane? Poke the devil in the eye and see what happens?

Intellectually, I understand this is a false choice. That my creativity doesn’t have to be at the expense of my peace-of-mind. That I may just need to evolve my approach. Open my mind to new sources of inspiration. And that this, perhaps, might even lead to new passions and greater creativity.

But emotionally, I’m mourning this loss. I’m missing the creative fluidity. Being “in the zone” and emerging surprised by the outcome. It’s been a thrilling ride.

I’m not conceding. After all, I’m writing this piece. A bit haltingly, yes, but I’m carrying on. Yes, I’m carrying on.

Be well,

Monty

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