September is here.  I have signed up for the NaBloPoMo again, only to find my words have disappeared.  I am restless, fussing turning and bothering people in general.  I am distressed and lost in my desert without an idea or words.  How am I going to write about healing?  It is such a good theme.  What a time to get the stutters!

I fret, pace, wring my hands.  I sigh, huff and puff to no avail. I take to the garden, wandering here, there – pulling weeds and looking at the summer’s effort.  You can certainly say the tomato beds have ran away on me.  The plants are toppling over and strangling each other with the weight of the fruits and foliage.  More is not always better. Live and learn.  There’s always next year.

It is now getting late in the evening.  I am not any less fretful.  The words are not coming any easier.  They do not fall from my fingertips like water from a leaky tap.  Music jangles my nerves.  Talk does not help. Perhaps a cup of tea.

Do you have days/nights like this?  Experience has taught me not to fuss too much, as if I can help that.  It’s best to stay put and ride out the waves. Don’t go on a serious shopping trip.  Don’t get your hair cut. Don’t bother calling anyone.  Usually they are not home. Even if they are, the conversation leaves you feeling worse than before. I try to stay off the bicycle, too. I have fear of falling.

My cup of Chai is working its magic. I feel a slight ease in my chest. My fingers are losing their stutter across the keyboard. Breathe! I tell myself. Relax those shoulders. Unfurl the eyebrows. Move those fingers across the keyboard. Forget about profundity. Just get the words out. Do not worry about grammar and tenses. The night is not young. You can do better tomorrow. You have done your best today. It is enough.