Flowing into the suck

I’m always meaning to write more on this blog. Folks who know me well say I ought to be a prolific writer and all that.

I used to think the same, but many times when I sit down to write, I’m empty inside.

There’s nothing to give.

I don’t know what it means, nor do I want to give it meaning so that I’d have to do something about it.

My life has always been about flow. Even when there’s no flow.

Flowing empty.

All I can do is embrace it rather than struggle against it.

It doesn’t make the discontent go away. Sitting with it, maybe.

Flowing into discontent.

Sounds like a zen thing, doesn’t it? Maybe it is.

I don’t know, nor do I feel the need to define that either.

Flow I’ll continue. Embrace the suck and the not.