The past few weeks, a lot of my energy has been going into a new business I’ve been working on, and I’ve been taking on new responsibilities. Good ones, but difficult ones. It’s just a new journey, and new journeys are always hard to start. I’ve been feeling really tired. At first it was just bodily tiredness and general unavoidable exhaustion. Gradually, it became tiredness of the soul. I couldn’t figure out what it was, but it was just an underlying feeling that, although I was enjoying my new journey and my new interests, there was something missing. The further I went through time, the more I felt it, a strangeness, like I was slowly walking away from something.
During the time, I also had a difficult loss. Loss punctuates everything. Suddenly, there’s a full stop where there was once a tranquil path. A question mark appears where once there was an endless stream. Language shifts. Words came out of my mouth that weren’t quite mine, thoughts grew where there weren’t thoughts before. The normal routes I took, I puzzled over, because I’d find myself reaching dead ends. I still do. Loss doesn’t really disappear. It has affected me, just as hard as I thought it would, if not much harder. The pain doesn’t stop, it just changes, creeping in with ways I didn’t previously expect. So it’s less of a journey and more of a fumble. Sometimes there’s good days, sometimes there’s bad days.
Hard work and loss, all at once. The best way to deal with it all, and in some ways the most punishing. I was getting up early, 4 AM, 5 AM, and sleeping late (and catching up on sleep and old routines, then starting it all again). But at the beginning and end of every day I walked a familiar path. I am so lucky that my career path right now is putting me in one of the most beautiful areas of the country, because every day I saw this same beautiful sight. A long sea, a circling coastline. In the mornings we’d look for seals in the water or coming up to the beach, and in the cloudless evenings everything would be bathed in an orange hue of just pure, melting bliss, rolling across the water to the far bays. Even on the cloudiest of days, the sea is undulating azure, impossibly blue. Pure joy, a moment of peace at the start and the end of the day.
Slowly, slowly, I’ve realised the tiredness is because I’ve missed the old creative outlets of music and writing, the tides and the waves of what has always been most familiar to me. It’s obvious, really! I just haven’t been able to make time for them. No, that’s wrong. I have had time. I just thought I didn’t have time. I chose an extra half an hour sleep that I didn’t need over generating a new idea for my novel. I’d slide into the sofa and blank out watching a television show I’d never remember instead of working on chords or melodies for a new song. I was still productive, always productive in some way, but the more I leave behind the things that are the best for me, the more I get afraid to look at them again. As if looking away from a problem will make it disappear. And also, I thought I didn’t have the energy to choose healthy eating and exercise. Of course, those things only generate energy – the best kind of energy.
A friend said the other day she’s been thinking about creative energy in a similar way as money. I’ve been considering that wise thought of hers, and slowly extrapolating it. How I obtain and increase creative energy. How I spend it. The difference with money is that I can’t really save creative energy for another time. The universe gives me an allowance every day. I can increase the capacity for it (through being inspired, mindfulness, reconnection and healthy thinking) but I need to spend it wisely. Being connected to the world around me, to the dawn and evening chorus, revives me and brings me so much joy, and never lets me down.
It’s a quick picture for today, a quick piece of writing, because I just needed to express my feeling at refinding my own river again, my own sea, of imagination and development and creation. I walked for so long, that I thought I had lost my way, that I thought there was no point retracing my steps. Then just by luck, I came over the hill, and there it was, just where I had left it, always patiently waiting. Thanks for always being there. ❤🌍