Zephyr

Writer's block is quite the interesting phenomena. If the state of my mind as it thinks and writes can be related to water, it would be such that it sometimes is a waterfall, cascading with a thundering intensity. Other times, it is a river, pulsing with a gentle current. Again can it be that the river moves voraciously as though after a summer monsoon that eventually settles to a mere trickle, hundreds of miles from its source.

Still yet can it be as serene and unfazed as a lake over which no wind stirs and no pebbles ripple. Be it wind or pebble that are the catalyst, the result is the same. . . as a zephyr would gain just enough momentum to curl the placidity, as a smooth round pebble would break the surface . . . entropy ensues. Writer's block then, is perhaps fear of becoming unfazed. . . of losing that serene placidity. And I think this is why so many writers simply cannot give up. Because once in motion always in motion. The divisions and boundaries between the deepest and most raw human proclivities become not only part of the person, but part of all people who read and connect. Writing keeps the writer alive in the sense that writing keeps writers alive.