I lost my words.
I am not sure how it happened, but it did. And when they disappeared, I barely noticed. But now, sitting a greater distance away, it's clear that they are missing. I'm not sure if after pouring so much into a book, I just didn't feel the need to say anything else. Maybe. More likely, it was not sharing much of anything while I intently focused on those 208 pages that made me clam up a bit. Regardless, the words stopped.
I find it curious, though, that while I am doing a dismal job of documenting my daily life (a photo a day is often a chore and there are no words on the 365 any longer, either) and a mediocre job at sharing my creative work (garments that have been sewn- and worn!- and not blogged as well as the weekly oil painting), I still form the sentences in my head. The words are floating around in there, looking for a place to land. And that backlog of sentences and paragraphs that need writing down are cramping my creative muscles. Because, let's face it, the majority of my thinking is focused on my kids, my husband, our household, feeding everyone, cleaning up after everyone, procuring and doing the things that make up daily life. When there is space and time for creative thinking, it is best for me if that little sliver of mental bandwidth I have leftover is clear and ready for use. I need to shake out what is in there and move forward.
All of this is a very long-winded way of saying that the words are coming. They may be jumbled and messy or short and sweet, but I plan on letting them out as they come. Lucky for me, I have been asked to join the party that is habit in December. One photo, 30 words or less. And, for me, a jump start – a way to let the words out, just a little at a time. I'd love it if you'd visit me and the other guests over there this month. I think the sum of all those daily bits of all those women's lives is powerful and a bit magical, too.