Monday, August 24, 2009

Reasonable on paper

Lumpy, droopy, or both ... those pretty well sum up the last few days. I'm sure I'm blocked again; I really, really, wish I knew what was setting this off and if I did, you can be damned sure I'd quit doing it. Immediately. My doctor said once that energy blocks weren't a problem in and of themselves, that they were symptoms of something that was generating the block condition; so, unblock your life, the blocks should go away in and of themselves.

Seems reasonable on paper, at least.

I'm having a horrible time just sitting down to work on my current composition commission... for some reason, I keep getting called away by some sort of not-that-interesting representative from "life's little housekeeping chores," and somehow whatever it is I need to do takes up the entire frakking day; and/or by the end of the chore, I have no energy/creativity/anything. I did enough of said chores today that I shouldn't have to do a single one of them tomorrow, or at least that was the plan... we'll see what happens. I still have hope that I'll get it done within the time frame that I had originally planned on, which was a little ambitious but--at least in my pre-MS days--not at all unreasonable. That's my hope, at least.

Seemed reasonable on paper...

But there is some good news. A couple of days ago, I got some really good work done on the commission piece, some really nice stuff, so at least it's moving forward... and best of all, on Sunday I played the organ at a church service, and the Hellerwork has really loosened up my legs and now, finally, there's hope that organ performance isn't a thing of the past. Yes (or should I say, "hell yes") I need to put in some serious get-back-into-practice work, but at least now I can really feel like there's hope, that I really can still play the organ. Maybe not as well, but the organ can still be in my life. And that's a great relief.

Now if we can figure out why I have zero stamina and creativity, and (even more importantly) move past that, so that composition can still be a part of my life.

Hope is part of the substance from which the universe was created. There's always hope.

At least, that's the way I've always thought it worked.

It seems reasonable on paper, at least.


Denver Refashionista said...

There is always hope. Hang in there.

I am still having an exacerbation, even after a round of steroids and my life is falling apart. Nevertheless, I go in to my classroom every day to love and teach those kids. I guess where there exists a will, there is a way.

Robert Parker said...

This may be part of my problem: My students are a big part of my daily therapy. I miss them.