Waiting to Exhale

I've been having a hard time getting back into the swing of writing these days. I suppose, like so many things in life, there is an ebb and flow when it comes to writing. Its as natural as breathing in and breathing out - usually.

Seems like I've been a bit stuck on the inhale of late ... ahh ....inspiration. I wrote a few days back about how some conversations just seem to stick around until we choose to either move on or make our peace with them. In both instances there is room for something new to blossom in their place. At the moment I feel a bit like I have fully exhaled and with that here has been a rush of creativity evidenced throughout last month in blogging, baking, decorating, entertaining.

These past few days feel more like the pause before the inhalation begins. There is a still point in between breaths - an anticipatory moment. A beat in time that is in limbo between the two states. I feel like I am wandering there.

In this still point I notice that I can choose what it is that will fuel my next breath. What will my inspiration bring to me? Will I continue to indulge in mindless TV or will I seek out something more stimulating? Will I jump into the many different social events that seem to jostle each other trying to elbow their way into an already busy schedule once November comes along ? Or will I be more selective, choosing quality over quantity, exhilaration over the exhaustion of over-extension?

For the past few days my temperament is best described as all itchy and sharp edged. There is something floating just below the surface that feels gritty and prickly. I'm restless and indolent all at the same time.

Its like that feeling when you have when you bet a friend that you can hold your breath under water longer than they can - just because. And there you are under the surface with the golden light swirling just above, feeling like time has stopped even while your heartbeat ticks off the seconds as it begins pounding in your ears, the squeeze of pressure growing in your chest, clawing its way up your throat to your mouth, your nose and finally the pulse behind your eyes and ears becomes deafening and you burst through the surface gasping and laughing all at the same time!

If we could remember being born - I wonder if it would feel that way? Is that why its so fun to play that game? Maybe its because we are always certain of our next breath. And so we stretch ourselves, we dare ourselves all in the quest for the moment when we break the surface and suck in that sweet air .... and know that we are alive. We are alive and feeling the sun warming the top of our head and breathing deeply and laughing hard.

Inhale ... exhale. .. inhale .... exhale - the ebb and flow that is our life continues. The ebb and flow that is MY life continues, even if I have yet to break the surface. I'm mesmerized by the light dancing on ripples, lulled by the slowing of time under here. I can feel my heartbeat growing more insistent, pulsing, urging me forward toward the surface. Reminding me that I need to let out the breath that I have been holding in order to suck in that fresh, sweet air.

My problem hasn't been inspiration .... it is that I've been holding my breath for so long that I've forgotten to exhale. I'm attempting to stack breath upon breath. And in the space where inspiration could happen, there is a stale balloon of something completed and waiting to be released.

Exhale... inhale...exhale ...THAT is the rhythm of my life and I'm shooting to the surface.....