it is supremely frustrating to try and try to think of words to write and thoughts to convey, only to find that the well has run dry. i ask myself why i struggle to find the words that used to roam so freely.
cigarette smoking was a powerful vice in my life. i didn’t just want to smoke. i needed to smoke. i depended on those smoke breaks to clear my mind, to return to calm during an argument, to feel okay in the world, and to self-medicate my ADD.
when i quit smoking last fall, it felt like i was sacrificing my firstborn. i was suddenly alone in the world. i lost my best friend. i lost the drug that held me up.
since then, i’ve filled spare moments with novels, movies, and television shows. i know, i know – not very poetic. so be it. the truth is what the truth is, not what we’d like it to be.
i realized yesterday evening that i hadn’t been allowing myself any spare moments to process all of the information i was ingesting. i’ve been so busy trying not to feel empty that i now have less to contribute to the world. there is something about silence that allows a person to digest what has been consumed and process it into something useful. without doing so, all that is consumed builds up in one’s system, coating the inner walls of the soul and wreaking havoc with one’s state of well being.
the answer to writer’s block is common sense: give your mind and your heart time to process. you don’t swallow whole sides of beef without chewing, do you? what would that do to you, other than choke you? chewing is processing is digesting. it is breaking down that which is consumed into smaller and smaller parts until the useful parts can be used and the unuseful can be removed. in a strange way it is also like sifting for gold.
ironicly enough, i came to this realization the moment i paused in silence and reflected on the situation. i digested just enough to realize that i need to spend more time chewing my meat properly.