I haven’t posted in a few months.
Or written,
or really done much of anything.
Every so often (you might say cyclically) life comes back to remind me that life itself is inherently cyclical. Often (but not always) our lives become loops of the things that we’ve done, experienced or felt. If you’ve heard of the concept of the hero’s journey I find regular human lives repeat the same beats not unlike those of the protagonists we read about. Fiction really does reflect life after all. The human experience exists as in a spiral. Whether the relative direction it twists in is something we can have a mite of control over.
What I’m getting it is despite feeling like I really had a grasp of my life and how things were going only a few short months ago I am realizing I am at the lowest version of the cycle I think I’ve ever experienced. I won’t get too into it, but really at it’s root I think it boils down to growing pains. My head is pretty much the clearest that it’s ever been. It feels like I can finally see the goal line, but the clarity I’ve been afforded only stands to remind me of how far away it really is.
I hope that I can learn to be more consistent, more human, more able to write and draw and create the things I’d like… but at this point I’ve been wishing for it for so long that my wishing star has burnt out.
Take care of yourselves, and I hope I’ll have more good things the next time I make it here.
The Cluttered Library 