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Laughing at Writer’s Block

19 Mar

Sixty-five degrees today.

I was thinking about writers’ block as I fed and watered the chickens today.  I was thinking about it as Maggie and I took our walk down the country lane, birds joyously declaring to anyone willing to listen that life is for the living, to be embraced, smothered with kisses, and held so dearly until that last exhale.  I was thinking about it as deer broke from the forest, saw us approaching, and darted back into the shade, now you see them, now you don’t, a magic act performed especially for us.

I was thinking about it as I began cleaning the back yard, the old muscles protesting, shaking off the winter rust, the first positive actions of Spring, capital “S,” thank you very much, protesting and yet rejoicing in the fact that there’s still some miles to go on this old body, and ain’t that the cat’s meow?

I was thinking about it as I looked at the countryside, six shades of green, emerald and Kelly, sage and absinthe, a touch of jade for good measure, nature’s paintbrush mixing and matching, always in search of the perfect hue, and again with the woods, browns never drab, coffee and dun, tawny and umber, such subtle differences by the Master Artist, should he exist.

And I thought about it at day’s end, a time for relaxation, for contemplation, a tally of the day, good acts and harmful, blessings and negativity, how did I score, what to improve, what to eradicate, and I thought about it as I reflected on lives gone, loved ones, lessons learned sitting at their feet, a continual classroom of love, free for the taking, the only requirement being to practice what was preached, do all things with love, never let a friend down, cherish the small and insignificant, all part of life, all to be valued.

My final thought, as I laid me down to sleep . . . how is writer’s block possible?

Wishing you peace and love, today and forever!

Bill

“Helping writers to spread their wings and fly.”