Looking for inspiration

Looking for inspiration:

It has been more than two weeks and I’ve not posted anything new to my blog.  I view my blog as a vehicle to express my mind, intellect and memories.  Memories have been called the back staircase of our history.  I place mine here so they can be climbed and I can be found.   Here I can place my thoughts, impressions, suspicions and gut feelings.  Often, it feels like appearing in public with my pants down.

Of late I’ve been weak on inspiration, the keys do not speak to me as I type, the wastebasket is full of misdirected thoughts and inconclusive sentences.  Paragraphs do not immigrate with my thoughts.   The other day I was in a Chinese restaurant and found myself reading the fortune cookies looking for originality.

The blood has not flooded from heart to pen or keys.  I’ve hit the writer’s wall and the race across this year of essays has become the year of practiced penmanship.  My mind is drooling and my thoughts are dribble instead of being sharp and direct.  One of my facebooks friends asked, “Did you write that before or after you dipped into the EggNog?”  Who can save me from this shallow pool of rusted emotional and cerebral despair? 

Alas, I found a ray of hope.  Something to push my rusted intellectual and egg headed mind into kinetic movement.  I’m moving from the corner of the room where I’ve sat with my dunce hat on to the center of the room.  The center that is what I’ve missed; I lost my center, my core.  Everything revolves around my core it is the pivot hinge of my thought process.  The middle-point of how I express myself.  I was lost but now I’m found (if only I could spell).  Words are beginning to form in my mind. I think I’m on to something; I’m having confabulations as I write this.  Freedom of idiomatic expression is happening as I scribble this paragraph.  I can feel the rationality and mental health of reason and common sense returning. 

It all started because I started to write, opened a vein, confessed my weakness, pushed through the wall of despair, “brake on through to the other side” (written in the tune of the Doors - Jim Morrison).  To think I resorted to fortune cookies for originality.  How foolish I was when all I needed to do was center myself and record my meditations.  Ignorance is no excuse; it’s the real thing.  Thankfully my words will cover my nakedness and I pray they will be as soft as oil and bring calmness to the disturbed soil of our lives.  I have found intimacy and self-possession of my thought process.  Words are breeding in my mind once again, I feel reassured.

Still looking for more inspiration, but not in Chinese fortune cookies.