When I want to write and I cannot I am not myself. I’m not talking about writer’s block here, writer’s block is a hint to take a break, do something else, or dig deeper; there is no such thing as writer’s block, it is an illusion.
I am talking about not having the time, or space to write. This has been my issue the last few days, but here I am, at a new house sitting gig, a yurt more specifically, and I have the time and space to write.
Writing is exercise, an art that comes to fruition when one is destined and dedicated. One of the most important ingredients though is something to write about, experience. I think that is why it may be foolish to study writing in college if you have not experienced much. A better bet may be to take a year off and move to another country, or ramble our own countryside, doing what you love: playing music, writing poetry, climbing rocks, floating rivers, or skiing mountains, etcetera.
Where I am, at this yurt, just outside of Durango, the rain is coming down, and my thoughts are centering, forming onto this page (screen). Rain is a blessing in the desert, and its timing is perfect. We are nothing without rain.