My mind is always racing with all I need to do to get from A to B. It reels and rams itself over and over into more and more to-dos and lists and whats and whys. I often cause more anxiety than there actually is because I am so afraid to miss something that is seemingly important but in the vastness of life, is nothing of note.
Right now my mind is sifting from one moment to the next, preparing for a summer vacation that is on our horizon. My list of items to accomplish grows longer by the second and more intimidating than facing a firing squad.
Writing is a way to slow all of it down. To stop it all, leave life hanging in midair, and move into a realm where anxiety does not exist for me. There are times when anxiety in my writing comes out. When I think of timelines of how long it will take to do something, or when I want to set my "deadline" and I cannot make it. That is when I realize that I am squeezing out the creation and inspiration, and inflate my writing with superfluity. It's all hot air.
And when it is filled with hot air, it is time to let it go: let it rise up and away into the sky while you watch from below. And when it is hidden in the clouds shaped like Donald Duck or a rhino in a bath, you turn your attention back to what it has always been meant to be. Your sanity, your worlds, your dreams and hopes. And lay out the story once more and continue onward.
If only I could apply this to my actual life. Now there is an idea.
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