I became worried the other night. Seemed to me that I was having difficulties writing - even thinking about 'Blue.' The specter of a 'block' hung over me.
I discovered this morning, while I lay in bed on my 'off' day, that I hadn't lost the abiity to write nor rejoice in the action of thinking about writing. Myriad thoughts, plots, actions cascaded through my mind. It felt as if a dam gave way and all thoughts of 'Blue' finally made it over the broken concrete and spilled into my mind.
I believe it's this crazy, frenetic world we live in. With the snow, ice, wind, and rain storms that we've had this past week, along with flooded basements and shoveling feet of snow, there is no time to think. One reacts.
I chuckle and think of Einstein's little theory - for every action there is a reaction.
Conversely, that could read: For every action, there is a reaction, and then there is exhaustion!