Something From Nothing

I’m supposed to be writing anything that comes to my mind this morning. Nothing is coming to mind. So, I will write about nothing.

Nothing can be frustrating. Wanting and waiting for something, anything, but finding only nothing is, indeed, a deterrent to writing. I do not know why there are days that story lines and ideas seem to burst onto the scene in my mind like spring wildflowers and other days that looking around the mental play ground I find absolutely nothing. It is a virtual feast or famine of creativity.

I have not yet fully developed the habit of writing down the tidbits of inspiration as they come to me. Consequently, when floundering in the lean famine times, I do not have the handy well of words and ideas from which to draw. I can remember many times thinking the thought passing through was fodder for future writings but I can’t tell you what they were. I am left with just a memory of recognizing the creative moment in its time of flight through my mind.

Developing new habits is not for the faint of heart. At least it’s not something that comes easily to me. I am such a creature of habit in so many ways, maybe too much so. Perhaps that is why sculpting new a habit is so difficult. I’ve read that we do not change habits only replace them. Sometimes they need to be replaced or remodeled or just made to be more flexible.

For example: At one time in my corporate job phase of life every morning my dressing routine was the same. I had not planned it all out; it was just done the same everyday for so long that the habitual routine was deeply ingrained. One Sunday morning dressing for church I was interrupted by a phone call. After ending the call I was dashing about trying to make up for lost time to get out of the door on schedule. I detest being late to anything. I habitually get up early to give myself ample time to ease into my day and so rushing is not required. It creates a sense of chaos that I find unbalancing. The phone call from a loved one was a delight but now urgency replaced my morning calm; I was rushed.

I did get to church on time to my relief. It was only during the singing I realized that in my rushed departure I had forgotten to put on a certain under garment. My routine had been broken and undies left behind….no pun intended.

Fortunately, this was a fashion time when we wore long skirts so I was in no danger of dishonoring myself but I still recall the moment of realization and feeling my face turn red. Fortunately, I doubt God cares. It was at that moment I realized I was a serious creature of habit and messing with my routines messes with my head.

In my desire to become better in my craft, I will take the time to do some spring cleaning on my habits and routines to determine which help or hinder my quest; working to make the changes necessary. Thankfully, writing is a clothing optional pursuit.