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I’ve been feeling unmotivated with writing lately.
I don’t want to think about article ideas. I don’t want to spend time thinking about what to write. I don’t really feel like putting in the thought or the effort.
I just want to be present, breathe, and enjoy my day.
I want to walk and look at the trees without trying to think about how I’ll describe them as vibrant and green. I want to listen to the sounds of the birds without trying to figure out how I’ll tie them into some article with a helpful message or something about being present. I want to feel the wind on my face and feel the warmth of the sun on my skin without mentally trying to think about how I’ll later describe the experience with the written word.
I want to sit outside in the yard (that I mowed last weekend!) and just be there—sitting, breathing, looking at the world around me. I want to take it slow, be still, soften—without having to turn it into an article about how we should all learn to slow down, be still, and soften—about how we should learn to be present, become quiet, tune in, and learn to listen to ourselves.
I love writing, but sometimes it takes a lot of mental energy. When I know that I have to write, or feel I want to get one written, my mind can feel like it’s overly alert…just looking for something, some idea to write about. Sometimes, I don’t mind. Sometimes, I can look at it as a challenge, as a way to overcome some inner limiting beliefs (like I can’t write many articles a week or I don’t have ideas) or as a way to challenge my creativity—yes! I can do it! Or, I can try something new!
But sometimes, it feels like it just takes up too much space, too much conscious effort, like each of my breathing moments are being accompanied by this underlying energy of “we need to think of something to write about.” How can we use this?
This inherently pulls me out of the present moment, out of my actual experience—which is something I don’t really love (especially when I’m in this kind of mood). And it can be kind of exhausting (especially when I feel like this).
I want to be present, truly present—I want to sit and walk and be in the sun and breathe. I want to enjoy the space where I am, and I want to enjoy it, be with it, breathe with it for myself—not just so that I can later describe how it felt.
I love writing, and when it flows, there’s almost no feeling like it—but sometimes, it can feel like arduous work that pulls me out of something I may want to be doing instead (like sitting outside and doing nothing at all!).
It can be interesting to observe our minds—to see where they go, how they work, what they do. How we can be sitting silently enjoying the light sparkling, shining through the trees in the forest, and then that calculating mind of ours starts trying to figure out how to use the experience…how maybe this can be turned into an article, something worth saying. (For the briefest of moments last evening when I sat on a rock in the woods, it happened to me.)
But that very act, that thought, pulls us out of the moment that we’re actually experiencing.
Writing isn’t really the problem, of course. (Clearly, because I often like doing it.)
I just haven’t been in the mood to write, and I’ve wanted to spend my time (and mental energy) doing other things instead.
Sometimes, this just happens.
Sometimes, we feel unmotivated.
There can be lots of reasons for it, but it happens.
After a couple of days of resistance to writing, this idea popped into my head on a walk—and it actually kind of flowed.
It was kind of fun.
It actually felt nice.