On Saturday, I hung up the phone after crying to my father. My knot had seemed better until I hung up the phone to realize that the knot is directly related to my stress level. I have no idea what is stressing me out. I know what was stressful in the phone call. I know what hurts and what I cannot fix. I know that that is part of my stress -- but I'm not sure what to do about it.
Since I hung up the phone, I have been wanting to write. Not just blog. Not just journal. Not the usual sort of writing that I do here and there. I have been longing to write. Perhaps I'm inspired by the book that I'm reading. Maybe I'm trying to find a way to express what is running through my head or the truth that I have come to know. And yet, I'm not sure where to start. I'm not sure where to begin -- so I'm searching for words.
Reverendmother is reading a book about unblocking creativity. I wonder if that would help. I painted this weekend when I couldn't figure out how to write -- but maybe I should just pick up a pencil and paper and allow myself to just connect. At the very least, I can rejoice that Obama won the caucus in Maine (even if the Democratic Party wouldn't allow me to vote). This is good news, my friends. This is change I can believe in even if I can't find words for my other thoughts.