Whoa. Flow.

Music: Suede, "This Time"

It's been a few days since I posted. Sorry! The weather the past few days was wonderful, summery but blessedly mild, with gentle breezes and ample sunshine. The kind of days where you want nothing more than to lay in the grass and watch clouds or sailboats float by, lost in a forever moment without a care.

I've been bad -- not writing nearly as much as I should; I'm normally prolific, but have been in a bit of a rut of late. I don't call it a block, because I never let myself block -- if somehow I stop writing, I force myself to write whatever and that jumpstarts my imagination, which steps in as a kind of boredom-alleviation defense or something.

Mortality was licking my boots over the weekend, making me think about this and that, how the delectable present and the tantalizing future all too swiftly becomes the regretful past. There is infinite power in moments, but it's hard for a human mind to stay caught in that moment for long. As a child, it was an effortless enterprise, and days were like years, and moments lasted forever -- flow, it's been called, the psychology of optimal experience. I remember those times, but I think as an adult, it's harder to hold onto that flow, the moments become fewer and fewer.

I still get it now and then, but not as much as I used to. Now, it's more of a bleary blankness when I'm not writing. I worry that that blankness will envelope me as I grow ever older, forgetting, losing touch. A sorrowful demise, a slow walk off the stage and into the everlasting darkness.

Not to be all dark and moody today; sorry. The Mondays and all! I try to cleave to the joy, thankful for my health, because sickness robs you of life, and as you slide from youth to maturity, health itself becomes something you can no longer take for granted. You fall down and get hurt, it takes time to heal. The pain stays with you.

Anyway, here's to flow, to the glorious and fleeting moments!

The Bubblemen are Coming