Sunday High Noon. Perfect for some scribbling. But the canvas has been left for hours. This has been the most important writer’s block yet. Two weeks straight and the documents sit there, whispering to me for some care. I start but I have the hard time to retrace where I left off. And then this feeling – this stupid feeling - that I will connect this block to rest of my life. Which in some way it has but in most ways it does not always.
I imagine it as a leaf gripping on its twig. I either pray for a strong wind to blow me away or a warm sun to keep me still. This dilemma, strangely, seems to marvel me, unfailingly. I need to decide which prayer I will offer.
I suddenly found myself googling tips on overcoming writer’s block. They are all practical in most sense. Why, did I expect some magic rituals? Kahit papano naghanap ako, harhar. The best way is to get out of your computer screen for a while. Others suggest physical movements (jog, gym) as long as you have a notebook and pen to capture eureka moments in between. Some say you can write as soon as you wake up, in the first few hours when your mind is at its ‘theta’ stage bordering the dream and reality.
Writing this thesis has never been excruciating. But I need to do it even if no one wants to read it, anyway. The past months have been quite low. I have other ‘priorities’, I believe. And my instincts tell me so. Others remind me to just Choose. Yeah, I choose to do it with the barest minimum. That's why I bear this consequence.
Let us have a tweak of perspective. It can be quite exciting sometimes to feel a writer’s block. To my mind, other than the leaf on a twig. It's like a raging waterfall, or the buzzing of the city streets. And you are there in middle of the universe noise, the persistent longing for the sound of a crack. That crack, sometimes elusive, sometimes hotcakes, is what will carry you through the rhythm. Let's see again.