When there’s nothing to stay

How can I write when I don’t feel the urge to express, when the thoughts are swirling but haven’t fallen into a shape capable of words needed to match it? These are the days, and sometimes weeks, or even months, when writing seems a chore and not a gift. I don’t always have something to say, and I’m so glad for this. I observe peers and strangers on social media who rip out content at a rate that my being can’t match. Sometimes I am a well of wisdom, and sometimes I am listening, or merely just on pause from even that. I like the ebb and flow of this gift, even though modern culture would have me question how helpful ebbs are. No one is urging me to write daily, and yet, I still hold a story that says I should have the juice to piece together even a small paragraph of well organized words. Sure, when I sit down, my fingers move from osmosis and familiarity, yet what is written doesn’t come from a place of need or wisdom, it comes from knowing how to string words that sound well together; the difference between loving with an open-heart or committing with a determined-mind. Neither on their own particularly better but together make for a creation not possible without the other hand-in-hand. So, today, and yesterday, and maybe even tomorrow, I listen for the tiny urge of expression to tug, and then I’ll speak.