In terms of creativity, my well of ideas rarely runs dry. Usually it is my energy or focus, or desire to actually do something that evaporates – like water in the sun.
If I find myself procrastinating, it is a signal that I need to stop ignoring what is preventing me from getting to the studio. Because I’ve not run out of ideas. In point of fact, I usually have too many ideas, and some of them simply fall by the wayside as some other idea that looks more interesting comes along.
Or – in my previous life – a critical deadline that knocks what I want to do out of kilter.
Like everyone else I am feeling the strain of the pandemic. The current political unrest is not helping either. But the fact that I am not participating in the protests is an indication of my privilege. An indication of the place I live in, certainly, but also my personal limits. My health. My age. My special snowflake-ness, and the fact that if I should catch the virus (or it catch me) I very likely would become very ill and may not survive.
That is just a fact. I am not frightened of the virus because I can protect myself from it – by staying home as much as possible, wearing a mask when I have to go out.
But the daily strain of considering the pandemic certainly wears on me.
After some weeks of berating myself for returning over and over again to that good old standby of tea towels, I finally realized yesterday that it’s ok to stay ‘stuck’ in that rut. Yes, I have other yarns, other ideas that I would like to work on. But not now. Not right now. My brain is weary and staying with the tried and true – especially when I still have 2/16 yarn to use up – is a perfectly valid thing to do.
Today I am going to give myself a day ‘off’. I have a library book due, and a large stack of books in the queue with deadlines. Time to dig in and let myself read. It takes my mind off the current situation and lets me travel in time and place, without ever leaving the safety of my home.
And that isn’t a bad thing. At all.