This title above is for me, today.
The ideas circling, and the page remaining blank. Blinking cursor and all.

Writing can be such a sweet space to allow thoughts to flow. A flow often found in “stream-of-consciousness” prompting for journals or prose. I first recall this effort back in my 9th grade English class. Feeling both mesmerized and nauseated by the thought.

Mrs. Shaw allowed for any topic to boot, so it is one my first (sickening) memories of feeling out to sea with no life preserver. Internalizing, “But who would want to read these wanderings I own?”

[“do I own them?”]

The same sentiment experienced now, too.

Though I notice how much of that perfectionistic/procrastination and ambivalence in my way, arises from an adage like: “push back so I’m not pushed.” The musings of this blog-now-turned-website-and-following-soon-after-a-business, still provides a creativity, amongst the ebbs and flows.

You see, today is no different.
I just face the waves differently.

Sometimes I see the comforts of the windy dunes, sandy beach towels, & family wading alongside me. Other times it’s out far beyond the horizon and gray storm clouds, beyond the surf, that I gulp for air. That I swallow the sea waters and a salty throat strains my voice. Restricts how I’d like to be heard.

And, I know there are more revelations than just those two.

More shadows. More ripples discoverable in my considerations of knowledge & practicalities. More times in which to offer practices or exercises that might lessen intensities within our mental health. More currents aligned to the ‘beingness’ of me, that can morph into poetry or fiction.

Today it’s the latter, I suppose.

Musings of a silent tide. In and out.