I finished my blog post yesterday with a feeling of uneasiness inside of me. I couldn't quite be sure what it was all about and then it hit me. I was writing the post just to write. Just to be there and be present. But I wasn't writing from my heart and that always makes me feel like a fraud. 2016 has been a funny one for me so far. All the hope and positivity I had channelled and nurtured over 2015 just seemed to disappear in a puff of smoke. I have been keeping busy and doing plenty but I always know when my soul isn't singing as sweet a song as it should be.
At the end of 2015 I had a flourish of creativity. I now expect this to be available on tap and that's not how creativity works. But hooray for me being a sensitive soul and being knocked by every tiny insignificant event in my life. Because if I try hard enough there is always a little surplus supply of sorrow within me to inspire some kind of poetry. I suppose I can't help but feel self-inflicted pressure to churn out words and songs for the band (we will always be called the GCDC's but don't tell Jobe). But this year, so far, I haven't given myself the head space to connect with myself. I shouldn't leave those things to chance.
Today is beautiful. Ziggy and I went out for an early morning stroll. Ziggy had been Gurgletron (that's what we call him when his tummy makes noises) all morning and he produced a toxic jobby that couldn't be picked up with a jobby bag so I had to run aaway very quickly. My walks with Ziggy are very valuable to me, whether he does toxic jobbies or not. It's where I do a lot of my productive thinking and I ask myself the super serious questions like "What the f**k is wrong with you Hannah?" The answer is always different depending on the day. Sometimes I'm gentle with myself, sometimes I'm not.
My living room is a sun trap. Both Ziggy and I have been basking and I, for the second time this year, have forgotten about the eggs boiling in the saucepan. At least they didn't explode this time.
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