It has been a little difficult to motivate lately now that the summer heat has arrived. The blank page can either be solace or, as in my case, an expanse too vast to contemplate.
The Natalie Goldberg part of myself says: You have to show up even when you don't want to, it is a practice, after all; the Julia Cameron part of myself says, you gotta do the morning pages to clear the slate, and clean out the rafters of your mind.
You get the drift: No excuses.
And in the past, this would have worked.
My inner voices would summon me to the chair. No ifs, ands, or buts, except the one that is supposed to be on the chair.
But not lately.
The only thing I have been able to muster has been a visit to the bog on the Trail. Years ago, I started taking portraits of the frogs and noticed they have different personalities. Some leap into the water the second I get close, and others sit still at my feet for twenty minutes while I snap away. Some even seem to be posing.
Something about the frogs helps me to ground. After all, that's as grounded as you can get. Nestled in the mud awaiting a dragonfly to get just a little too close.
But even with the best of intentions, sometimes the frogs still fail. One frog keeps throwing himself at the blue-winged butterfly only three inches away, and it is of no use. The butterfly is always a flutter away, the frog too urgent and grasping.
All of nature is a teacher.
Claim your branch. Take your place in the sun. Dodge the snakes. Sometimes you'll catch a wing. Not always. But it’s worth trying.
Even so.
~ KB