The great nothingness

I’ve got nothing for you today.  I woke with a crushing anxiety attack.  I stumbled around in a fog trying to get a sense of why my stomach was in knots and my head was pounding.

“What have you done all week?  It’s Thursday, you’ve got no proper, insightful, exciting, funny, award-winning blog post!” screamed the demon in my head.

“Of course I do,” I replied.  Then I dug through the cache of draft ideas.  Nothing.

“And you have yet another day of planned activities that will keep you away from your thoughts and creativity.  Same thing tomorrow.  Do you really think you can support yourself like this?”  “Take a look at your bank account and tell me how you think this is going to play out because right now it’s looking bleak!”

“I know, I know.  Just give me a second to make a cup of tea and pull myself together.”

Alice, my mood-o-meter, is glued to my side.  She curls herself around and tries to get into my lap.  I put her out the back door and go back to my loft.  The yoga DVD starts and I stretch my sore muscles and mind.  But the voice doesn’t stop.  “You know you’re just going to have to interrupt this as soon as Alice wants to come back in.  Why bother when you can’t even settle down and finish the session.  The phone will probably ring as soon as you get to the meditation part.”

Pause the movie.  Let Alice in.  Return to yoga mat.  Alice still insists on physical contact, this time sitting on my legs and gazing at me with watery, wise eyes.

I did finish the session.  The phone didn’t ring.  I let go of the tension in my shoulders and looked out the window at the purple and yellow crocus.  They weren’t struggling to bloom.  They were simply, softly, opening.  That’s all they were supposed to do this morning.

I’ve got nothing for you today.