There are days when creativity flows from your fingers like a flooded riverbed. Each finger is a tributary that leads to a snaking body of water that manifests itself in a keyboard (musical or typing), a brush, a chisel, a cello, ballet shoes, or even scanning the skies with a telescope in search for a new star. Then there are the days when that riverbed dries up. You sit before the implement of your creativity with a blank stare. Minutes, hours, days go by. You know you should go for a walk, do some weight training, or at least meditate to clear your mind. You return to your office or studio, and the riverbed is still barren. Your magnum opus refuses to come to fruition. Melancholia I, by Albrecht Dürer (Public Domain) I find myself indulging in the least constructive vices to distract my mind from my writing and my art. My most corrosive vice is YouTube. I will spend hours scrolling from one recommended video to another. I will sometime...
Comments
Post a Comment