I feel like a quirky faucet these days; the words come out in strange bursts and stops. One moment I'm sure I have ten blog posts and a couple books already written inside me, if I could just get the time to get it all down. The next moment, I can't do anything but listen to music and stare out the window.
My friends tell me I'll get better at managing the flow over time.
For now, I'm thankful for the pieces of my life that pull me out of my head and into the moment. Every interruption is a small safe-guard against a manic, workaholic binge. I'm thankful for the freedom to ask the Universe, "Are you sure? Can't someone else write that one?" For all the ways I'm learning to be patient, to wait. And most of all, I'm thankful for friends who see me clearly and our together spaces, where I return when I'm questioning it all.