The dark grey clouds that rolled into Northwest Ohio this afternoon matched my melancholic state of mind today. I'm not quite depressed, nor am I particularly anxious, but rather in something of a creative funk.
I have stayed busy today, catching up on a few errands and some reading, but the writing muse never arrived. I have days when cranking out even a paragraph of the most perfunctory prose is a chore, and I have learned not to stress much when the words are few in number.
Better to move on to other activities.
And, really, how could we appreciate those days when everything runs smoothly - or when our ability to solve problems and express our creativity is at its peak - if there were not grey days? It is when we view ourselves as most vulnerable and incompetent that we recognize our inner talents.
Just as the grey clouds will give way to sun later this weekend, my melancholia will soon dissolve and be replaced with creative vitality.
But I still have nothing else to say...