It has been a weird season. Things have changed, and yet they have stayed the same. Progress has been made, and yet it feels like I've regressed. New situations have been exciting, but old ones are much more comfortable, much more safe.

In the midst of all this, I am finding myself with too many words that have been spilling out, into my art journal and new book ideas, and at the same time with too few words to compose even a single blog post.

Is that not the weirdest thing, how we, how life can be two things at once, two contradictory, conflicting things?

Inspired but empty.

Vivacious but lonely.

Active but stuck.

It amazes me that as much as my mind is always working, churning away with its worries and fears, it sometimes fails to come up with anything that feels relevant, real, honest. And yet, here we are. Seven weeks into the year, and I've written exactly one post. Does that still count as being a blogger? Is that enough?

I don't have the answer. But as the incredible Jamie Varon wrote last week

"you are as you are until you’re not"

I am learning that change takes time, and change takes courage, and unexpected shapes and forms, and country music, and sleeping too long, and just simply going about your business each day. And sometimes, change takes silence. Just letting it happen. Just waiting until whatever is being re-arranged and re-assembled is done. Settled. Changed.

Instead of stressing about not having blogged for a while, of not having lived up to my own demands and expectations, I am being forced to learn that if there's nothing there, there's nothing there. If the words don't come, they don't come. If things are still working themselves out, within yourself, within the universe, within life, then there is no way to rush any of that.

It has been a weird season. But as with any season, this one, too, will come to an end.