Elusive Creativity

The creative burst I had the other weekend, which led to writing and recording “Broken Loose,” seems to be just that – a burst. Since then I have gone through my day to day without the “itch” of inspiration. I did have a fun, social weekend last weekend – including spending most of Sunday playing music with my dear friend Lora Pendleton. And playing music is creative. But I miss the artistic drive I think I used to have. I dabble in so many things – writing, photography, drawing, playing guitar, singing, songwriting – but I don’t seem to have the discipline to excel in any of them. I put a lot of time into my job and my work for social justice, but I like to think I have another part of my soul to feed. Or do I? It doesn’t seem hungry. I fear that I distract myself too much with the internet. I fear that I am softening as I age. I fear fear. I need to carve out more time for quiet, for solitude. Space to listen for the muse.
I realize this is redundant.

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