There are days where creation pours out of me, and there are days where my well is dry. Sometimes I can’t wait to jump into my work, and sometimes I have to trick myself into beginning, tap dancing around my hesitancy to plunge into the depths of my subconscious. Tricking myself to do the work most vital to me because to do otherwise would be a waste. And there are projects that flip flop back and forth between these two extremes, a love-hate affair maddening and necessary to my existence.
There are days that I am confident and vibrant and powerful, and there are days where I want to hide, yet many people can’t tell one from the other. I feel contrary to myself and wonder which version of me is closest to reality. And I think there’s a connection between my confidence and my ability to connect to whatever my creative inspiration is.
Shakespeare spoke of a muse of fire, but I long for one of gentle, steady rain. I will take whatever I can get happily though.