Last week was a good week, an interesting week, and the more settled in I get, the more used to new routines I become and the more things just work themselves out, the more to my own self I’m returning.
I’ve been struggling at work for a while now, trying to dig deep and find it in me to be creative, to write effortlessly and easily. Last week it was like the clouds cleared, and the sun came out.
I wanted to write.
It took me a while to find my rhythm, to find that sweet spot where you’re thinking less and the words come readily, but I found it by end of the week. On Friday, I woke up and couldn’t wait to get to my desk.
Couldn’t wait for the feel of the pen in my hand, as I jotted notes, the feel of my fingers skipping over the keyboard without my realizing.
It’s amazing how much you fail to appreciate something until it’s missing from your life.
So on Friday, I pulled on a favourite top; a black sheath/tunic style top that used to be a dress until I realized I’d wear it more as a top and had it shortened. Added my favourite earrings, a pair of slim pants that are no longer slim on me (are instead too big) and therefore required a couple of safety pins to keep them on my hips. Added my favourite stiletto heels and headed to work.
And I was happy because I was back to doing what I love most.
Pen in hand.
Heart in hand.
Feet on ground, heart in hand.